Goedemorgen Drabbles
by xXsummerdaymoonXx
Summary: While yes there's the joys of children, there's also the chaos that seems to follow their booty-covered feet, plotting mad men, and growing up in general. Basically a little series of one-shots with an underlying plot in there somewhere. Mentions of mpreg in the begining chapters and an M rating for future chapter-adventures. Mentions of cross-overs might be in future chapters too.
1. The Start

While yes there's the joys of children, there's also the chaos that seems to follow their booty-covered feet, plotting mad men, and growing up all and all. Basically a little series of one-shots with an underlying plot in there somewhere. Mentions of mpreg in the begining chapters and an M rating for future chapter-adventures. Touches on a different pairings of the Hetalia world~

Oh imagine the fun I would do if I owned Hetalia, but I don't. They and all their historical goofiness belong to Hidekaz Himaruya =]

Enjoy!

* * *

It started out normal enough for the German; waiting to Feliciano's noises give away his location in the kitchen of the Scandinavian hotel suit they resided in. The world meeting had ended yesterday, and several of the nations that had attended were already on planes away from Stockholm back to their respective homes.

Ludwig sat up, a rough hand running over his face. He sighed at the stubble his fingers brushed over, staring for a moment with half-lidded eyes at the black-screened TV sending his reflection right on back to him. Then with a heavy sigh, he pushed himself from the covers and stretched out to his full height once his feet hit the plush carpet; several joints popped back into place after having settled awkwardly over night.

"Ve, Ludwig~ You up?"

He smiled slightly at the bubbling Italian that popped his head into the room. Feliciano scampered over the taller nation, practically tackling him back into the bed with a content air around him. Strong arms came to rest down on his lithe shoulders and Germany laughed at the content Ve's escaping Italy as he snuggled into the broad chest.

"I have to get dressed, Feli," he said calmly, rubbing a light circle between the other's shoulders. "I'll be late otherwise. Then we'd miss our flight…" He felt the Italian nod against him with a mini sigh and shuffle in a last, feeble effort to keep close to the tired German. Ludwig leaned down slightly, placing a lazy good morning kiss into the Italian's hair. "I'll be back by lunch."

And that was how he had left, finding himself now trekking through the woods of the Swedish lands. He tightened his collar up around him tightly, feeling the cold try to sneak its way down into his bones and make them creak in tune to their true age.

_Damn winters_, he sighed, fingers flexing stiffly in his pockets. _Nein. Damn __**Swedish**__ winters…_

Noise to his left made the German pause and glance in the direction. A grateful smile came to his face as from the trees a familiar navy coat came to view.

Berwald stood between the old trees; his arm carrying a bundle of freshly cut timber as the other lazily clutched the handle of an ax resting upon his shoulder. With a slow nod, the nation turned and walked back into the signs of a beginning blizzard, Ludwig quick to follow.


	2. No Clark Kent

_Notes: In which Sweden and Finland realize having America babysit Peter might not have been the wisest decision that one Nordic country conference. Peter, sorry baby, you're no Clark Kent._

* * *

Sitting around the large, oak-stump carved table, Ludwig watched as Berwald sat down with a rough huff into the seat across from him. Back in the kitchen, Ludwig could hear Tino bustling about muttering soft things in Finnish, and Ludwig could occasionally see Sealand peeking into the room of the larger males before Finland called him back with a light chastising tone.

"S' wh't d'd ya ne'd, Germ'ny," Berwald sighed softly as his fixed his glasses. He regarded the nation before him silently as he took a sip from the mug in his bear-like hands.

Tearing his vision back from the kitchen entrance and Peter sticking his tongue out at him in a grin, Ludwig started at his formal title. A hand hesitantly rose to rub at his neck, and Germany gave a soft sigh. "Feliciano thought I should have gone to his brother," he waved a hand lightly, Berwald giving a soft grunt in response as he rose his mug up once again. "But…I thought… Since you've already been over the hill with Tino with _it_…" Blue eyes shifted momentarily back to the kitchen before they found their way to his feet with a soft scowl and a dust of pink humiliation on their cheek. "I'm…at a loss for once here… Fe….Italy is showing similar signs to Lovino and…well…"

Nodding, not wanting to make the awkward nation say more than he had to, Sweden made a noise of understanding. "S'ok to b' nerv'us…" Germany looked back at the tall nation with his eyes widening lightly. It was a beautiful thing; two nations understanding the situation without the need to elaborate in such lavish details like _some_ southern European nations did. "C'me as a surpr'se to us asw'll…" Berwald gave what few could call a smile at the younger nation's attentive face. "Ya just l'kn fer inf'rm'tion, lik' 'kways."

He stood slowly, motioning for Germany to follow him into another room. Ludwig was quick to do so, soon finding himself in a smaller, yet cozy room with walls lined with books. A small desk was situated in the back of the room, resting beneath a frost-covered window that was gaining a steady layer of powdery snow from the storm outside.

Berwald stared at the spines for a moment before he reached out with a free hand to pluck free a few books and hold them out to Ludwig. "'ere," he mumbled, leaning back against the desk as he watched the other from behind his glasses. "Sh'ld help ya s'me wh't."

Ludwig nodded gratefully, lowering his arm with the books pressed between limb and torso. "Thank you, I'll return them at next month's meeting." He smiled lightly when Berwald waved a hand, dismissing even the suggestion with mutters of "Ke'p 'em l'ng as ya ne'd". Ludwig spared a glance out the window, sighing softly at the swirling snow outside. "I better get heading out… I promised Feliciano I would be back before our flight, and seeing the possibilities and our schedule next week, it'd be in my better interest to keep him content than a bundle of nerves. Plus," Germany barked a short laugh as he glanced down to the books. "I'd hate to run into Denmark prowling your woods. His behavior at the meeting this week,"

Berwald cut him off with a laugh; a rare and deeply baritone noise that shook the walls of the room and spread contagiously to Ludwig's face in the form of a grin. The old Scandinavian lion had about just as much fondness for the dramatic Dane as the German before him.

"D'nt get l'st… H'te to f'nd ya wh'n the sn'w m'lts…" It wasn't a threat, but a very possible reality in the northern nations that always drove Ludwig mad. In turn, Germany nodded.

"Would hate for that. I'd never hear the end of it from Gilbert if I got lost walkign to a hotel." Chuckling, Ludwig turned; Berwald escorting him to the front door. "See you at the meeting next month, Schweden," he said, replied with a nod, before he walked from the house and into the falling snow.

Berwald shook his head and watched him walk away with a small smile on his face. "Lycka till, Tyskland. Du kommer att behöva det." **(Good luck, Germany. You're going to need it)**

A light weight on his legs caused him to glance down and see Peter leaning against him, desperately attempting to imitate the Swede's facial expression.

"Dad, how come Germany was here?" He finally asked, looking up to Sweden with those big, questioning blue eyes. He huffed in annoyance when Berwald dropped his hand to mess with the kid's hair before he turned and walked back into the warmth of the moderately humble cottage. "Daaad!" Whining, Peter raced off after him; laughing brightly when he ended up shooting into the kitchen before his adopted father figure and right into Finland by the sink.

Sweden joined his mini family, placing a chaste kiss against Finland's cheek as he leaned over the man to place his empty mug in the sink. "H' ne'd'd s'me _adv'ce_…" He gave a side glace to Tino, who made a soft "oooh" and nodded with a giddy smile coming to his youthful face.

"Mooooom?"

"….Peter, how many times do I have to tell you not to…"

"But Moooom!" Whining, the sandy-blonde child looked up at both parents with a huff, clinging to Finland's legs in determination. "….Hanatamago peed on my carpet again…"

Finland paused, staring down at the boy with a frown on his lips. "Again?" he sighed. Putting down the dish and sponge, he went to detangle himself from his boys. "Alright, alright… I'll clean it up." This sent Sealand off cheering, arms thrown in the air. Now if he could only detangle the Swed's arms from his body.

A small sigh of content escaped him as he leaned back into that broad chest behind him; those devilishly skillful carpenter hands weakly rubbing at tense muscles around his hips. "I g't it," Berwald whispered to him, kissing the man on the head with a lazy smile on his stone face. Reserved, but it got its message across, especially when those large hands rose to encircle the Fin around a certain growing area of his midsection. "Y'u go 'n r'st…"

Tino rolled his eyes lightly, laughing at the typical attempt at the porcelain doll treatment. "Oh no, you listen to me, Mr. I'm-such-a-big-bad-Viking," he turned in the other's arms, smiling up at him with hands on the other's chest as a certain someone kept them apart by a few inches. "You're not banishing me to bed rest this early in the game, I'll go stir crazy. And nobody likes a stir-crazy Fin."

"S'true," Berwald nodded, not even bothering to argue as his smile remained. "B't st'll." Peter crashing back into the room made the stoic Nordic nation sigh lightly and turn to look over at the micro-nation. An eyebrow rose slowly at his outfit.

"….P'ter….h've ya be'n t'lking to 'Merica ag'n?"

"…" Sealand shuffled under his cape, eyes going everywhere but his parents. "…noooo…"

"P'ter."

"I wanna be a hero too! Then people'll recognize me!" he shouted before suddenly swooping down to scoop a startled Hanatamago into his arms and run off in what Berwald could only call a superman position, whooshing loudly as he went and accompanied by the excited barks of their little white dog. Finland just had to cover his mouth laughing as Berwald mutter something about another coffee.


	3. Nephew-sitting

_Notes: In which the author displays her mighty use of Google translate (the worst of the superpowers, I'm afraid) =D_

* * *

Months had passed and it seemed like the whole world was accepting the possibility of another state or region joining the jumbles of awkward extended families. It was that particular morning that Ludwig sat at the kitchen nursing a much needed coffee as he recalled Lovino's reaction to his brother's excited news. His shoulders flinched lightly and he let out a sigh while the blonde nation tried to get the shouts of angry Italian and mafia threats out of his mind.

Alfonzo looked up at his uncle, the chubby-cheeked four year old blinking his dopey hazel eyes up at him in question. The German smiled back down at him, ruffling the curly brunette hair fondly and earning a lazy smile in return.

_Gods above, keep this child like Antonio_.

"Ve, Doitsu!" Walking into view, Italy smiled at the two before him. He giggled light at the sight of their 'baby practice' as Ludwig called in and Lovino argued it. His brother was determined to say the least, passing off his concern for his brother as anger at the German and _forcing_ him to care for a certain Spaniard's son to make sure he was well adapted for the future of little feet running on the floor boards.

Feliciano just saw the truth; an exhausted brother taking a much needed opportunity for silence with his husband in the height of their current _repeat offence_ (as Lovino called it. Antonio called it a symbol of love and promptly was yelled at in Italian), and a bonding moment between uncle and nephew. "Dinner is almost ready, are you and Alfonzo?" Subconsciously, a hand came to rest on the swelling form of _their_ union as he smiled at the two before him.

"Ah, ja…" Ludwig nodded, looking back to the copper-haired other before him. He stood with his nephew resting on his hip, eyes shifting away slightly with a light dusk of pink over his cheeks when he caught were Feliciano's hand rested.

Sensing the future of warm Italian cooking in his stomach, Alfonzo let his mind wander to other ways. He finally chirped up when Ludwig neared his Italian, staring with those big round eyes up at his uncle. "Tío? ¿El bebé come demasiado? Mamá dijo que los bebés comen, pero no comen como nosotros…" **(Uncle? Does the baby ear too? Momma said that babies eat, but not like us…)** The little boy squished up his nose while expressing a face of simple confusion the best way the toddler knew how. "No sé cómo los bebés pueden comer de manera diferente ... Siguen siendo personas, ¿verdad? Sólo gente poco? Tío, ¿cómo los bebés comen?" **(I don't know how babies can eat differently… They're still people, right? Only little people?** **Uncle, how do babies eat?)**

Feliciano paused a moment, blinking with a wide eyed expression and mouth forming a slight "o". Germany looked between man and child with his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Spanish had never been the German nation's strong point, but when Feliciano started to laugh quite suddenly, he let out a relieved smile.

"Oh, bambino!" Feliciano rushed forward to take Alfonzo from the Germany's arms, cradling the toddler on his own hip and peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses. "Si, si! The bambino eats, but not like a momma or a papa does. They get special food that's all for them!" And with that said, he turned and trotted off happily, exchanging sweet Italian nothings with the giggling boy, leaving Ludwig to follow afterwards with his head shaking and a chuckle on his lips.


	4. Leonardo

_Notes: Leave it to Germany to pass Lovino's 'father' test and not realize it, that goof_

* * *

"Did you hear?"

Germany glanced up slightly, regarding Italy before him just over the rim of his glasses. The other grinned and plopped down onto the couch beside him just a tad rougher than the German would have liked and was rewarded with a slight frown. He sighed lightly and folded up the newspaper, knowing very well he wouldn't be learning anymore of the spotting of a certain drunken streaking albino.

Pleased to have the German's full attention (let's be honest, when didn't he?), Italy wiggled a bit closer to Ludwig; a task that had once been far easier when there wasn't a third that made him out to be a fairly plump mother-to-be. He silently blamed the pasta in a streak of one of his more defiant moods, only to be found by Ludwig moments later profusely apologizing to the bowl of left-over's.

"Big brother Spain called a little bit ago, asking if he could bring Alfonzo over. Ve~" there was a big grin over the Italian's face and Germany instantly understood. "Isn't it great? We're gonna be uncles again!" Grinning ear to ear, he leaned over to kiss the German before him.

Ludwig laughed, a deep-chest sound, as the simple kiss turned from playful to a manner quite serious for the loving Italian in a matter of moments. Leave it to Feliciano to think now of all times was the best to quell raging hormones.

"Feli, now…might not be your best moment," Ludwig had to bite back a laugh at the whine as the affectionate kisses turned into pouty nuzzles at his neck. The door bell sounding through the house however was all it took for Italy to do a 360 attitude change.

He shot up to answer faster than any pregnant being should have been able to in their third-trimester and raced off towards the door. Ludwig shook his head lightly, placing the paper down on the table beside him as he too rose to go follow his energetic Italian. A brief moment of pause was all he took to glance at his cramping book shelves, dusting over the books that Berwald had graciously let him months ago.

On his way to follow the Italian, Germany was greeted with a bawling child crashing into his shins and clinging. He blinked down in confusion, watching the curly locks of his nephew try to become one with his pajama pants.

"Alfonzo? What's the matter, neffe?" Kneeling, he cupped his hands over the small child's shoulders. He could barely hear the car leaving their gravel turn-around over the cries. "Why are you crying?

Sniffling loudly, the miniature Spain raised his hands in a hurry to scrub at his cheeks. He always wanted to look tough before his big German uncle; he had overheard momma one night telling papa that men don't cry and was dead-set to prove himself. Yet when he opened his mouth, a wail escaped him and the little boy cried harder knowing he was doomed to tears.

"Ma-mama w-was" there was a brief pause in his whimpers when he hiccupped. "Mama was in pa-pain! And I co-couldn't….Couldn't he-heeeelp!" He brought into another series of wails that struck a slight panic into Germany.

Italy soon turned the corner to enter the living room, pausing at the door while his frown turned into a small smile. Before him, he watched as his German wrapped his arms around their sobbing nephew with soft (albeit awkward at first) comforting sounds. He came to rest against the door frame, a hand supporting the bambino inside of him; fingers drumming lightly over the mound when he felt it stir against his palm.

"Shh, neffe. It's alright... You're helping more than you know," _that_ certainly peaked Alfonzo's attention as his wails turned down to light whimpers and sniffles. "Especially with you being so brave right now…" Smiling warmly at the child in his arms, Germany tucked him closer towards his chest to which the young boy now clung to desperately. "Your momma needs you to be brave right now. He'll be alright. He's just gone with your Papa to bring your little brother."

"I-Is my hermano ca-causing Mama so mu-much pain?" Alfonzo sniffled, leaning back to look up at the vivid blue eyes of his uncle. "Ma-Mama said that Papa is a pa-pain in the ass…D-Does that mean m-my brother is too?" The young boy's scrunched up lightly. "I don't…. I don't th-think I could love h-him if he's hu-hurting Mama like th-that!"

Feliciano started to laugh as Germany started at the hiccupping child in his arms with a face of bewilderment. "Oh bambino~" the Italian nation cooed, causing Alfonzo to shift and look up at him, then back to Germany in confusion.

By the time Alfonzo's eyes were back on Germany, Ludwig had managed to gather his thoughts again (with a properly highlighted post-it note tapped to the highest priority board of his mental office to talk to Lovino about his Italian temper in front of Alfonzo). A smile was back on his face and he shook his head at the earlier voiced question. "No, no, neffe. Your brother isn't like that at all. Your momma's body is just getting ready to let him out." _Oh lord, I don't need to be explaining babies this late at night_, Germany thought with a light twitch to his eye.

He suddenly stood, hoping to distract the child from further questioning in the one way he knew how. "How about we go read a story, then you can sleep with your Onkel and I?"

That worked, thank god, and the toddler gasped and began to nod with renewed enthusiasm. Germany held a hand out to Italy, the smaller nation smiling as he took his husband's hand to trot off to their bedroom with a promising night of original Grimm fairy tales that Ludwig had carried down from his own (occasionally fatherly-figure) brother.


	5. Not really German!

_Notes: _

_P: In which the awesomeness that I am makes my epic appearance for the first time in this pathetic story to save its butt and Luddy makes poor Feli piss his pants!_

_G: ...shut up, Bruder._

_Disclaimer: I really don't own anything, honest xD_

* * *

Germany sighed softly as he closed his eyes and nuzzled down into his scarf. It was a talent he had adapted in the times of the war, this strange at peace, sleeping sensation to rejuvenate himself as he walked home. An eye barely opened as he scanned his surroundings.

It was a typical late fall day, just around its peak where the leaves showed off their brilliant colors; like flames embracing the dark tree trunks. He gave out a light shudder, turning away to close his eyes again and sigh into the knit material of his obnoxiously German scarf.

_Trees were burning, and the cold…the same cold biting at his body as he watched the town go up in embers_.

Aggression was prevalent on the nation's growl as he fought away the memories that dared to invade the dark sanctuary of his mind. It was hard enough getting rest when he was in his bed, flipping between the tense atmosphere of whining and hormonally-raging Italians, babysitting excitable nephews, and the midnight scares of possible labor, and he just didn't need _these_ thoughts creeping into the comfort his silent walks gave him.

Aster whined at her master's heel, looking up at him with her golden tail lowering lightly. At his smile, it instantly rose to a contented wag, and she stepped lightly to the side to brush her body's weight and warmth against him. Germany chuckled at the dog's strange sense of comfort, glancing forward to watch Berlitz and Blackie running around just as hyper as they had been in their younger years.

"You guys won't mind the baby, will you?" he voiced lightly. Of course his only answer was from the well-mannered retriever by his legs, and it brought a much-needed laugh to the German. "Well of course _you_ won't, Aster. You'll probably be glad there will be someone to run around and distract the others from you." He reached down lightly, brushing fingers against the dog's lightly curled golden coat. "With any luck they'll be just as hyper as Feliciano, and they'll all exhaust each other playing and we'll be able to get some work done for once." And by we, he had ultimately meant me.

Glancing up again, Ludwig frowned as he watched the Doberman and shepherd turn pause on the street, noses to the air. He tried to whistle to them, but sighed in disappointment when they began to make a racket and shoot off down a side ally. "I swear," he practically growled, speeding up in hopes to catch the hyper dogs. Aster simply kept to her master's heels diligently.

"Berlitz, Blackie! Get back here!" Germany ordered as he finally turned the corner. He started at the sight awaiting him, Aster sitting with a huff at the scene.

"Bruder! I thought your hounds were better trained! Call them off!"

"…" Rolling his eyes lightly, Germany called to the dogs now clambering over Gilbert for his attention. Their ears peaked, and the two slowly came back to sit by their master's heels with bowed heads and curled tails. Germany could have sworn he saw Aster give the younger dogs a look.

"Bruder….what the _hell _ are you doing in an alley?" Ludwig shook his head and sighed. He could practically hear his headache coming back.

Pausing in his self-assessment, Prussia turned to grin. "Aww! Did you miss me, Luddy?!"

"…more like danced in happiness."

The albino paused for a moment, frowning lightly. "But you never dance." His grin returned ten-fold at his brother's annoyed groan. "Anyways! The awesome me decided that I should totally return in time for my neffe so I can train him from the beginning! Ain't that great?!" Gilbert grinned wickedly at Ludwig, laughing his annoying (yet oh so familiar) laugh.

"….Lovino kicked you out, didn't he." Ludwig smiled when Prussia's grin faltered for a minute.

Huffing, the ex-nation turned away with a sour expression. "What?! No! I just decided in all my wisdom that I should probably give Antonio back to handle his own mass of crying shit!" Scoffing, the elder brother seemed to sulk inwards on himself. "….plus there _might_ have been the slightest potential of a knife-in-my-skull and mafia assassination in my sleep if I didn't go bother you."

Germany nodded, turning to leave the ally. "I'll remember to thank him personally next time we see each other." Calling to his dogs, Germany began walking back towards his house and began to wonder if the dog whistle also worked on Gilbert who had rushed out to join him.

"Don't be cruel, bruder!" Prussia grinned through his whine. He reached out to punch the other's arm lightly, startling and tripping back a step at the hard glare Ludwig sent him. "You'll so need me to take you out for your first pint as a Vater!" to which was replied with "there won't be _time_ for drinking, you idiot".

Ludwig silently cursed God that his dogs had found Prussia and thus disrupted his silent paradise of a walk by the time he reached home. Swinging open the door, he let the hounds enter first then himself, _absentmindedly_ slamming it shut before Prussia could enter.

"NOT COOL."

Chuckling, the German nation dropped his keys in the glass bowl by the door and bent over to unlace his boots. His smile died on his lips however when he heard how silent the house was. He straightened, eyes narrowing as he reached for the bat in the umbrella stand (Feliciano's idea of course after he had watched that ridiculous Slenderman game be played when Gilbert had his friends over one day). The house was _never_ quiet with Italy floating about; there was always some form of noise to be heard, be it singing, dishes clinking, or even the TV monotony speaking German news in the living room. His Italian _hated_ silence.

Walking down the hall, Germany tightened his grip on the bad. "….Feliciano?" _Human names, remember human names. There could be something there_. He tried to even his breath as he neared the kitchen where minutes ago he could have sworn to have seen shadows dancing past the door. "Feli, you there?"

Ludwig paused right outside the door, ignoring Gilbert's "Dude, the hell you doing?" when the other had finally found his keys. In a flurry of movement, he burst into the kitchen, bat up and ready to attack anything with a vicious shout.

Well…needless to say, that vicious shot was met with a high-pitched scream (albeit _manly_ scream) as he started Italy by the sink.

"Mi dispiace tanto! Per favore, non mi uccida! Io non sono davvero un tedesco! Erano tutte bugie, bugie, bugie! Per favore, non mi uccida! Sono troppo giovane per morire, e se non muoio, ma sono solo e ferito a morte e costretto a giacere in miseria in una pozza del mio sangue? Per favore, farò qualsiasi cosa - beh, voglio dire a ragione - Io non voglio morire!" (**I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me! I'm not really a German! It was all lies, lies, lies! Please don't kill me! I'm too young to die, and what if I don't die but am mortally wounded and forced to lie there in misery in a pool of my own blood? Please, I'll do anything – well, I mean within reason – I don't want to die!**)

Germany blanched at the site, slowly lowering his make shift weapon as he watched the Italian squirm before him, bawling his eyes out as he screamed. "I…Italy," Germany said, holding out a hand weakly to him with an exhausted voice. Just as he was getting the other to calm down, Prussia popped his head in with a loud, "What the fuck, dude?!" that sent Italy into a fresh series of screams.

Blinking at the screaming man before him, Prussia finally pointed at him and began to laugh loudly. "What the hell, did West scare you _that_ badly you had to piss yourself?!" The albino had to support himself on the wall he was laughing so hard at the other. Italy slowly calmed back down now that Germany had come over to his side.

Pouting, he folded his arms over his chest with a scowl. "N-No! I didn't wet myself!" Whining loudly, his hands fell to rest his hands over his stomach. "The baby did!"

That just sent Prussia into more side-splitting laughs as he had to stumble out of the room into the hallway.

Frowning, Germany looked back to his frowning Italian. "What do you mean?" Italy turned to look up at him with the wide eyed expression of "Exactly what I meant!" that turned the German's frown further downward despite the race his heart began to run. "….Italy,"

Then he noticed the wince in his Italian's shoulders, the one eye that slowly began to cringe shut at a corner, the little frown on the other's lips. "Oh," Germany said softly. "…..Oh!" Gasping, Germany rushed to look about, barking for his brother's attention once more. Three sets of fluffy heads perked up at their master's frantic voice by their place at their food bowls.

"Ja?" Prussia peeked in, still lightly chuckling as he rubbed at an eye. His laugh slowly died though when he watched Germany looking at him in a panic; one he hadn't seen since the ending moments of the War. It clicked in an instant and he nodded; a smirk sprawling over his thin lips. "Hurry up, I'll hold the fort."

Ludwig nodded gratefully, trying to usher Feliciano out of the door with a concerned face despite the Italian's laughs and asking if they were going to get some gelato. "Just remember to feed the dogs!" Prussia glanced over to the hounds staring back up at him, all sitting in a neat row by their bowls with tails wagging contently. "Aster will show you where everything is!"

Tilting his head, Prussia raised an eyebrow at the dogs before him, listening absentmindedly to a car starting up outside. "Oh… Dinner?" He gave a shout of surprise when the three tackled him in a blur of colors and excited barks. "Verdammt! Get the fuck off! Aren't you supposed to be awesomely trained or something?! FUCK!"

At 3:42 that afternoon, Karissa Farica Vargas-Beilschmidt greeted the world with healthy lungs and a wail to back them up.

* * *

_End notes:_

_Well that's all she wrote for now, more lil chapters will be up later (with other pairings of course =D)._

_If you caught that line (minus the obvious word changes .) Here's a cookie for you~_

_Till next time, lovies!_


	6. It's an A thing

_Notes: In which the reader learns that the author was telling the truth about there being more than one pairing in the story._

_Disclaimer: I really really really don't own anything_

* * *

Letting out a content sigh, the American nation leaned back into his plush seat at the middle of Air Force One. He raised his hand to slightly bring down the brim of the air captain's hat he wore, deeming himself worthy for a brief nap while the pilots guided the massive metal bird (the co-pilot of course missing said-hat now). He smiled lazily, snuggling into the folds of his worn leather jackets in all its familiarity and memories.

A few rows before him, the President sat discussing matters of the governmental go-on's with several of his big-wigs. Alfred's boss gave the sleepy nation a knowing eye, a smile on his face.

The nation frowned as he heard his cell phone going off against his chest. With a weak grumble, he pushed the brim of the pilots hat upwards and fished the buzzing iPhone from his pocket. A smirk spread out over his tired face however at the sight of England's irate face staring at him, hand rose in a salute to the famous bird. Swiping his finger over the green bar, he held it to his ear.

"Whazzup, Iggy?"

There was a slight shuffling on the other side of the phone, an a lightly-accented voice greeted him. "Daddy?"

_That_ broke the grin out on the nation's face. "What's up, little man?" Leaning forward, America rest his elbows against his knees. "I got yah somethin' from the trip!" Fingers pushed his hat back further. "Where's Mama? I don't hear him yelling in the background like always."

Alistair gave a small huff through the receiver side of the phone; another thing purely British he had inherited from his _mother_. "Mama said you're dead when you get home," Alfred could practically hear his son scowling through the phone. That only made the older nation grin wider. "He said to call that…" the boy paused trying to remember. "Ungrateful prick of a bleeding prat, and tell you that I'm going to Uncle Matthew's until you get home."

Reminding himself to tackle the issue of England's interesting speaking habits around their two year old sponge of a son; Alfred felt his eyebrow slowly rising. "And why's that, lil dude? Mama got a meeting or something?"

"Nu, Mama had to go to the hosbital… He sa-" there was a small shuffle and a disgruntled 'hey!' from the young child as another took the phone.

"Alfred?" his twin's voice rang through the plastic and glass device in Alfred's warming hand. "Ah, it's a good thing Alistair caught you when you did. Are you coming home anytime soon? There was a specific demand of a certain English nation that his child _not_ be born an American this time if the father wasn't there."

There was a light tone of amusement in Matthew's voice as he enlightened his brother to the current situation. All heads turned to America when the nation shot to his feet with a scream of 'Holy Shit!' on his lips.

"We're on our way home now!" Alfred's hand shot to his hair, disheveling the hat on his head. "Good god, Mattie, give us a few hours! Tell him to, I dunno, cross his legs, count to a bazillion, and pretend to be the tight ass we know and love!" Wide blue eyes shot down nervously toward his boss and fellow countrymen, earning several strange glances in return. "Holy fucking hell, Mattie! Fuck!"

His brother chuckled over the line, and in the background Alfred could ear Alistair arguing determinedly with Prussia about something stupid no doubt. "I make no guarantees, Alfred. But I heard a rumor that Francis was going to head there with hi-"

"Oh like no way in hell is francy-pants being with Iggy for _THAT_! MATTHEW! GO INTERVEINE! CODE BLUE-87 OR SOME SHIT LIKE THAT!" Alfred threw his hand into the air with an exaggerated gasp. "Ali will be fine with Gilbert for a bit! You go keep Iggy safe from your crazy father figure or so help me, God!"

"Alright, alright," more laughs were in the northern country's calm voice. "If I hurry, I'll get to see Arthur in his moment of glorious threats," Ah _there_ was that fun side to his somewhat forgotten Canadian brother. There was a muffled call to Gilbert, as if Matthew covered the phone with his palm, before he returned. "I'll keep you informed, Alfred. Text me as soon as you get word of an ETA."

"….brow, I'm not gonna need money."

Through the phone there was the soft sound of a _smack_ before Matthew spoke again. "Just….text me when you land. I'll keep you informed, Alfred."

"Thank's, bro!" Grinning ear to ear, Alfred hung up his phone, pocketing it soon after. There was a brief pause before the American nation gave another shout and punched the air around him grinning ear to ear.

His boss simply laughed, having known that feeling twice over himself.

All throughout the 4 hour flight, Alfred could no longer keep himself from fidgeting. Sleep was an idea left behind long ago, and he constantly continued to check his phone in hopes Superman had flown around the earth and sped up time to assist the Nation. Instead he was greeted with a picture of Captain America's shield (_that_ had been one of his favorite acting jobs a few years back) held up by an irritated England from a past trip to Hollywood.

With a hour and 46 minutes to go, he received a text that had his phone flying out into sight.

_**You're late**_.  
_** - A.K.**_

Grinning, Alfred was quick to return the text.

_**Sorry babe, savin' the world one state at a time. Can't be too late, am I? Meds gotta be kickin' in nice for you to be operating Matthew's awkward phone**_.

There was a momentary pause that had the American nation holding his breath. Then the chime rang out again.

_**No.  
- A,K.**_

"Wha…" Alfred felt his eyebrows draw together as a picture started to come through to his phone a few seconds later. As he clicked it open, his breath caught in his throat when pixels became a scrunched up face not at all happy to be awake, mouth just barely open as if trying to kiss the air.

_**You best not mind Alice. It seems we have a "tradition" of A names to continue.  
- A.K.**_

Holding his breath, Alfred leaned back into his chair. A hand came to rest on his chest, and he was ignorant to the world around. A low, airy laugh came to life between his teeth, and soon America was covering his eyes with a hand, bellowing in laughter that shook his chair.

"Oh god, Alice. We're horrible, ain't we."

As soon as Air Force One touched down, Alfred shot an apology at his boss before tearing off down the air port hall ways. He kidnapped a poor taxi, practically screaming out the address of the hospital Arthur had texted him earlier after the American nation's phase of non-stop, phone-exploding questions.

Nurses stood no chance against the crazed nation running through their halls. The head-nurse of the floor barely had time to look up Arthur's room number before America was off again whooping loudly.

He slammed open the English nation's door, grinning ear to ear into the room before him. It was a dark room, the curtains having been pulled tight against the characteristically bright blue sky outside. There was a shuffle of sheets, and a pair of venom-green eyes moved to look over at the door.

"You're late," there was a hint of a smile in the other's voice.

"Aren't I always?" Grinning, Alfred trotted over to plop down beside the bed rail of the hospital bed. Arthur rolled his eyes at the other's retort and turned away to glance down at the bundle of pink squirming lightly in his arm.

"And here I thought I had her asleep for good this time," those eyes turned to look at the other again, and Alfred felt his heart skip a beat at the emotion hidden in them, deeper than where many would dare pry. "Well I suppose her father does have a booming quality about him." Leaning forward a bit, chuckling and shaking his head when Alfred rushed to help him upon seeing the wince in the other's body, Arthur carefully held the child out to him. "Just shut up and take your daughter, you prat."

Alfred paused, hands barely extended towards the bundle now starting to make weak, mewling noises. It was the same with Alistair; a nation far too powerful at times afraid to hold such a gentle creature as a new born. But he took her, smile downgrading to a warm glow that registered on his lips and eyes.

The little girl gave a little squirm at the exchange of warmth, scrunching her round noise lately to which Alfred chuckled. But she soon settled against her father's chest, a hand coming up to rest lightly by her cheek after an idle scratch. "Arthur, I-"

But the door opening again and the rush of feet cut him off before Alistair slammed into his father's shins. The two year old looked up to his parents before wide green eyes regarded his sister now perched protectively in his father's arms.

The toddler's face scrunched into an expression crossed between dislike and disgust and he huffed. "Can we return her?" Wiggling up onto the bed, Alistair found a position snuggling up next to Arthur's side. "She's already demanding and annoying, I can tell."

Alfred laughed when Arthur rolled his eyes as he leaned to kiss the toddler's messy hair. "No, Ali. She's here to stay," the English nation muttered, much to the child's dislike. Canada's laugh announced his arrival before the lithe nation followed his nephew into the room.

"He was like this all day," the nation whispered, taking a position by the wall. "He was arguing with Gilbert the whole time."

"Talk about it. The brat is _obviously_ American," Gilbert grumbled, stalking into the room afterwards. The look of horror on Alistair's face at the accusation of his nationality was hilarious to America who began to bellow out in laughter.

"What can we say? He's particularly British!" He managed out before laughs, calming down at England's soft, "Alfred." Blinking in confusion, he turned his attention downwards in the direction of Arthur's gesturing finger.

A pair of sky blue eyes stared back up at him, wide and startled at the laugh coming from so close to her face.

Alfred let out a shaky sigh, mouth hanging open as he and daughter stared at each other. A chubby hand rose up to grab at her father's hand, surprising the man when what he expected a weak baby-grip turned out as strong a grip as King Kong.

"Arttie," he grinned, wagging his hand lightly. "Arttie, look at her~" The younger nation practically cooed down at the little girl in his hands. "She's too muuuch!"

"….so can we return her? Or like….part of her?"

Arthur sighed, leaning against his son earning a grumbling mutter trying to hide a smile. "No, Alistair. We cannot return your sister." He just hear a whine in response as Alistair moved to cling to his mother. The boy's eyes narrowed on the jelly-bean in his father's arms, as if stating that Arthur was _his_ Mama and there was no way he was ever going to share with this whining, crying, smelling creature entertaining his Daddy. There just was no way.


	7. ABBA

_In which the reader sees why Sweden needs to learn to hide his tapes better_

* * *

Frowning, Sealand dramatically threw himself against the arm of the couch. He sprawled outwards, weakly trying to grab at the paperwork in Tino's hands. The older nation paused, looking up over his glasses at his son with a tired smile. "What is it, Peter?"

Frowning, the boy went slack against the couch arm. "Mama, come play with me. Papa's busy in his workshop and everyone else is too busy being _nations_," he huffed at the word, puffing his cheeks. He whined loudly when Finland laughed at the adorable expression, and weakly flailed his arms towards his mother figure. "Don't laugh! Come play with me!"

"Hun, I would," Finland sighed softly, moving to remove his glasses. He placed them atop the pile of messy papers resting in his lap before looking back to Peter. "But my boss wants me to go over some important paperwork so he can put them through the works quickly." His smile took a sadder note at the whine from his adopted child. "I promise, I'll play with you as soon as I get these papers done. Why don't you go work on those plays your brother wanted you to look over?"

The small micro-nation groaned, sinking to the ground and eventually disappearing from sight. The mere _thought_ of touching those dusty books to become more _literate_ and _cultured_ as Arthur liked to call it made him moan in boredom. "But Mamaaaaa…"

Tino opened his mouth, mid reach for one of the hands that remained exposed above the cushioned couch arm, when the monitor by his knees began to hiss. Both looked towards the white plastic device as it crackled away beside the Fin's cold coffee. They watched in silence as the red lights began to rise on the device and a soft whine escaped the white plastic speaker.

Sighing softly, Finland moved to put his papers down and stand. At least, that was his intention before Peter jumped excitedly to his feet with a grin spanning from ear to ear and a shout of 'I'll ge her!'. Tino watched the boy run off before smiling sleepily, reaching out to grab his mug. He winced and scowled down at it when the frigid temperature invaded his mouth.

* * *

Wiping sawdust from his brow with the back of his wrist, Sweden carefully placed the wooden lion down upon the table. He ran large fingers over the carefully detailed mane around the creature's head. He'd have to ask Tino to add a coat of paint to it before it could go up into the nursery; the Fin's paint hand always seemed far more tame than Berwald's despite his skill with the carving tools.

Pushing away from his work bench, the large man made his way up the basement stairs to the warm cottage atmosphere above. He was surprised to see Tino waiting for him; the small nation leaning on a hall wall, a new cup of coffee in hand and a gentle smile on his face.

"You have to see this," he said softly, reaching a hand out for Sweden. He grasped the larger's hand, leading him down the hall. Along the way, Sweden's ear picked up a familiar saxophone blaring from an all too familiar 70's band.

Finland paused outside the door to their daughter's nursery. Letting Berwald's hand go, he gently pushed the door open a crack and leaned back, motioning with a wave of his hand for the other to look in through the opening.

_My, my, I tried to hold you back but you were stronger,  
Oh yeah, and now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight._

From the space between door and frame, Sweden was able to see the sight of his two children playing around his daughter's nursey. Peter had Maja standing on his feet, twirling her around the room to the upbeat swing of the music. A toy stereo lay haphazardly by the toddler's crib, it's static-filled speakers playing nostalgic music for the large Nordic nation.

_Waterloo – I was defeated, you won the war  
Waterloo – Promise to love you for ever more  
Waterloo – Couldn't escape if I wanted to  
Waterloo – Knowing my fate is to be with you_

A light chuckle behind him made Berwald step backwards. He looked to find Tino laughing with a hand resting over his lips. "I remember that song," he whispered between his fingers, stealing a glance up to the proud Northern Lion. "I think Lovino still gives you glares for that contest." Finland grinned back up at him in response to the frown forming on Sweden's face.

"He do's? …I n'ver n'ticed…"

"That's because he usually dives behind Antonio if he thinks you're going to catch him," The Fin responded. He reached out to place a gentle hand on his husband's arm in an attempt to shoo away the other's confused expression.

_Across the room your eyes are glowing in the dark  
And here we go again, we know the start, we know the end  
Masters of the scene  
We've done it all before and now we're back to get some more  
You know what I mean_

"Oh lord," Finland turned to look back in the room with a pink dusting over his cheeks. "Oh I hope they don't know what that song means…" He glanced over to Berwald, a shy look hiding beneath pale blonde lashes and a sheepish smile. "I remember you made me dance to this one with you at Denmark's party."

Sweden raised an eyebrow at that. His frown shifted into what the few that knew Berwald well, could call a smile. "_I_ m'de _yo'_ d'nce w'th _me_? If I r'memb'r corr'ctly, you m'de _me_ d'nce to th't s'ng." Leaning down, Berwald gave a soft chortle of disbelief. "Didn't ev'n kno' you kne' h'w to m've h'ps lik' th't."

"Berwald!" Going scarlet, Finland turned on him quickly to lightly smack his laughing husband across the chest. "Geez," he huffed and turned his face away to try and hide his grin. "How is it you can make me as red as a poppy in one statement? It's not fair."

Shaking his head, Berwald leaned down to capture his Fin's chin. Turning the other towards him, the typical frown softened just enough to let Tino into that world few had had the pleasure to expeiernce. "Pr'ctice," he whispered to the other before leaning down to close the remaining distance of their lips.

Having crept up to the door, Maja turned to look up at Peter. The older sibling held his finger to his lips, making Maja cover her mouth quickly. Peter reached out, carefully closing the door on the adults and their clearly private moment outside.

"Pe'er," Maja tugged gently on her brother's pants leg once the door was shut. "What was Aiti and Far doing?"

Rolling his eyes, Peter looked down at the little girl. "Pshhh, you wouldn't understand till you're at _least_ twelve!"

Gasping, Maja frowned and lightly stopped her foot. "That's like…elebin years away! Pe'er!" Whining loudly, the toddler turned and stormed off to her bed and the stuffed dolls that hung from the rails. Peter only laughed and walked after her, picking up one of the Moomins dolls too high for the child to reach. He knelt down beside her, a funny voice of broken Finnish giving the doll life that had Maja shouting happily back at it; all quarrels with her age forgotten in a moment of play.

* * *

_I do not own Hetalia or ABBA_


	8. Laundry Hide-outs

_Author Notes: _

_Prussia: Told ya you couldn't get rid of me that easily! Kesesesese~_

_Me: The day I have any ownership towards Hetalia will be the day Prussia moves outta Ludwig's basement._

* * *

"So tell me again why you're hiding in _my_ laundry room?"

Siging, Ludwig adjusted his hold on Karissa; the toddler cuddling back into her father's shoulder with a little sigh of her own. Prussia was before them, cowering behind the dryer while pretending his awesome self was invincible to the wrath he seemed to be running from.

"Well I might've been out drinking with Francis and Antonio,"

"When aren't you," Germany cut him off. His glare only intensified when Gilbert laughed.

"But yeah! So us awesome dudes are out drinkin our asses off and I _Miiiiiight_ have let it slip that I knocked up Francis's 'son' or whatever the hell kinda family thinking that man has on Birdie."

That caught Ludwig's attention. "…you…and Canada."

But Gilbert cut off Germany's train of thought by waving his hands. "But he was totally fine with it! Gushing on and on over probably our 8th drink about making clothes or teaching them the proper French culture and all that other giddy nonsense! BUT THEN! Somehow America found out and now I'm pretty sure he wants my ass! Leave it to that fat ass hypocrite to think knocking up his bruder is a national offence!"

Sighing, Germany shooed Prussia from the dryer corner. "Watch it," he growled at the albino's use of language before Karissa. He stood, the large baby blanket in his hand as he draped it over the sleepy child's body before turning his attention back to Gilbert. There was a groan already in his throat when he saw his brother wiggling about like he had ants shoved down his pants.

"So let me get this straight," Germany eventually got out. "You and Canada" a nod from Prussia "and France is alright with this" more nods "but now that America knows about you and his brother, he wants to kill you?"

Pausing, Gilbert moved to idly scratch at his cheek. "Well, I mean…he always knew about birdie and I….just….tended to forget sometimes." Big red eyes turned onto the larger of the Germans and Ludwig bit back another groan. "So can I just hide out here for a bit? Till Mathew can calm down Al?"

Despite wanting to remind his idiotic brother that in fact he already lived at the combined household, a small squeaky yawn at his shoulder reminded him of earlier tasks. "Ja, I suppose. But keep it down, she needs to take her nap and if you wake her," the threat hung in the air, not needing to be voiced.

Grinning ear to ear, Prussia wandered off after his brother as Ludwig went to go put Karissa down to sleep. "I'd never do anything bad for my little Prinzessin! Not cool!"

Ludwig only rolled his eyes, leaning down once the baby was in her cradle to brush aside some of the curly copper hair from her pudgy face. _Prinzessin, huh?_


	9. Be good for Uncle Mattie now

Arthur sat silent, eyes skimming the paper before him as cooling porcelain pressed against his tight lips. He occasionally glanced up, eyes taking on faint warmth when Alistair smiled back to his mother over his oatmeal. It was a beautiful silence between man and son; neither Alfred nor Alice around to ruin it with their abundant noise.

Glancing back to the black and white page, the English nation gave a soft sigh at the headlines. **Hat-Man and Robin Web Detectives. Amateur Detective Picks up Case Where N.S.Y. Failed**. Arthur let out a snort at that one. Amateur? Obviously the press was looking to insult the man in the deer stalker or the world was turning upside down.

"Momma?" Arthur let out a soft hum to let his son know he was listening. "How come Alice and I have to stay with Uncle Mathew?" Green eyes flicked up to regard the copy staring back at him. Arthur smiled slightly, leaning forward to sweep a napkin over the smudges of oats across Alistair's cheek.

"Your Father and I have a very important meeting we need to attend," he responded softly. "Uncle Mathew is too tired to go, so your Father is going to cover for him." _God help us all_, he thought in response to the statement. "You'll be good for him, won't you? You know how much babies can ware us out."

Alistair's face scrunched up at the memories and Arthur had to bite back a barking laugh. "She's _still_ loud," the child grumbled, poking at the apple-and-oat concoction before him. "I thought Daddy said she'd calm down…"

Chuckling softly, Arthur leaned back to tuck away his paper to the brief case on his left. "Well not all babies can be as well behaved as you were." He did not miss the happy smile on Alistair's face from the comment as he pulled out a second paper.

The moving pictures barely fazed the six year old anymore when Alistair stole a glance over at the paper. Instead, he smiled when one waved to him cheerily.

"Yo! Artie! You almost ready to go?"

Both boys present in the kitchen gave a soft groan at the shout resonating through the D.C. apartment. "I was waiting on you, Alfred," Arthur replied curtly, flipping a page to Ministry news.

America appeared in the doorway, grinning ear to ear. He was in, surprisingly, a business suit, granted a bit wrinkled and his tie atrociously loose and hanging around his neck, but otherwise well put together. Arthur sighed, walking over to him to knot together the sky-blue silk cloth.

"Honestly, one of these days you're going to have to tie this yourself," he muttered, slipping the cloth through its final loop. Glancing to the side, he smiled softly and leaned to give a small kiss to the baby's cheek as she sat in her father's arms. "Good morning, Poppet…"

Alfred just laughed as normal, handing Alice over to England before striding into the room. He ruffled Alistair's hair, getting an annoyed whine from the boy (despite the smile he was trying so hard to hide) as he went for the brewing coffee. "Mattie should be here soon. Sent a text sayin sometin about Gilbert getting his shirt stuck in the garbage dispenser, I dunno," Alfred said, waving a hand carelessly through the air.

"Of course he would," Arthur muttered. The doorbell rang behind them and he perked up, but Alfred beat him to the door. Moments later, Alfred was striding back in, an exhausted looking Canada in tow.

The two quieter nations nodded hello to each other in the brief moment they had before Alfred yanked Arthur from the house. They barely had time to say hello to Prussia as they rushed to the car, barely catching a glance at the laughing toddler hanging upside down in his father's arms.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Finally! The start of a plot-arch in this sea of one-shots! If you catch the hints of different cross-overs buono to you! Just a heads up that there will be a few shots with different cross-over glory._

_Again, I don't own Hetalia, but I sure wish I owned a neko!Italia~_


	10. The teen is always the sitter

Karissa crawled across the play-mat, reaching her chubby fingers out to grab at the hand of her cousin. She giggled in that adorable way babies do; waving her hand about with Alfonzo's now her prisoner. When Lovino walked back in from the bathroom, Leonardo protectively cradled in his arms, the older brother looked to his mother with a bright smile that almost perfectly mirrored his father's.

"Mamma, look! The baby likes me!"

Smiling softly at the scene, Lovino knelt to place the youngest of his children down on the mat. He reached over to place a few gentle fingers on the copper curls of his niece's head, and her blue eyes turned on him wide and expecting. In the flash of a second, her attention immediately shifted from Alfonzo to Lovino, hands out and grabbing for the Vargas twin with attention-wanting whines. Alfonzo frowned.

"Don't worry, bambino," Lovino practically cooed to his son as he picked up the little girl. She cuddled into him practically the moment his hands wrapped under her arms. "I just look a lot like her Mamma, she still loves you." He smiled, watching the little before him perk up instantly with a soft "good".

Their moment was shattered by the door of the hotel room swinging open. "Lovi? The meeting is going to start soon." Antonio popped his head into the room, smiling at the small family before him. "We should get going soon, tomatino."

That broke the motherly streak in the Italian's face, and he whipped his head around to direct a harsh glare at the other. "Lo non sono un pomodoro cazzo!" he shot back in rapid-fire Italian, all the while placing Karissa back down to the quilted mat. Standing, scowl still in place, his hands found their way to his hips and he stared Spain down with a harsh sigh. "When's that bastardo getting here to watch them? If they have to sit through a meeting, we'll never get anything done." He rolled his eyes, striding over to the dresser to pull out his tie. "Everyone'll be cooing over them and making a big fuss over nothing."

"Loviiii, our bambinos aren't nothinnnng!" Spain chirped in response, walking over to him with a momentary pause to pat Alfonzo's head fondly. Coming up behind Romano, he reached over the other's shoulders to help adjust the tie with a warm smile. "Emil said he'd be by in a minute… He had to make sure Norway had all his paper work straight if he was going to be designated babysitter by the Nordics." Kissing his cheek, Spain stepped back with a playful pat to the other's ass that sent Romano into a flushed string of curse words.

A knock saved the Spaniard from the impending mauling, and he quickly went to answer it. A bright, contagious smile spread across his face at the sight of a bored-looking Iceland standing on the other side; the teenage nation staring back at him with a raised eyebrow and baby carriers by his feet. Beside him, Peter grinned in the excited way all children do, Maja curled up to her big-brother's chest as he held her.

"Sorry we're late," he said as he stepped into the hotel room with a carrier in hand. "Norway was _determined_ to get me to call him….well," Iceland rolled his eyes. "You know." He placed the plastic baskets down onto the bed, taking a moment to peek under the blankets to see if the babies were still sleeping soundly. Content with his results, he turned to look back up at Spain.

Romano strode over to Spain, fiddling with the tie he found to be too tight again. "Call if anything goes amiss," Spain chirped over his husband's head as the shorter was dragging him off. "I'll make sure Denmark doesn't distract Lukas too much from taking notes for you!"

"…" sighing softly, Emil looked down at the mat to find the children staring up at him expectantly. "Uh," _intelligent Ice, _"Who…wants to watch a movie?"

"I'm picking it out!" Peter shouted, putting Maja down to rush and rummage through his bag. "I know I got something awesome in here!"

Iceland took it all in stride, folding legs up beneath him as he pulled out his phone and quietly padded across the key board to formulate a text to one of the (in his opinion) few sane nations left.

* * *

_Author's Note: Cuz who DOESN'T love Uncle Iceland!_


	11. Not a very good story

"Emil…I want a story…"

Blinking, Iceland glanced away from his phone to look at the soft voice calling up to him. Maja sat by her blocks, staring up at her uncle with expecting eyes. Iceland opened his mouth, ready to respond in what he hoped would be a distracting manor, but the Vargas relatives caught the word "story" and looked at him hopefully. Sighing, Iceland sent out a quick text to Hong Kong and snapped the phone shut; chucking it over his shoulder where it landed amongst the pillows.

"Alright, alright…" rubbing his neck, Iceland looked up in thought. "What kind…?"

"Dwagons!" his little niece shouted, arms shooting up into the air. Peter instantly agreed. The young Italians nodded as well, moving across the mat to settle down next to the Nordic children, giving Emil their full attention.

He couldn't help but smile at the kids in front of him. Settling on the edge of the bed, Emil leaned forward. "Once, there was young man named Sigurd, encouraged by a man he thought his friend to go out and hunt a dragon named Fafnir. He decided he'd do as his friend asked, and went into the forest to find the dragon and its gold horde.

"He and his friend found the dragon's tacks, and hunted the dragon down. They found him by the water's edge, and wanting to take it by surprise, they dug a deep trench that they hood in." Leaning forward a bit more, Emil cast a smirking glance among the children. "When Fafnir crawled over the pit, Sigurd jumped up and STABBED him in the HEART!" At that moment, he jerked towards the kids, hands reaching for the screaming and laughing kids.

"What happened then!" Alfonzo said, clinging to Karissa with worried wide eyes. "What happened to the dragon?!"

"Well you see," Emil shift his gaze over to him, smiling softer now as he leaned back. "After Sigurd stabbed him, he jumped away as Fafnir thrashed around. The dragon then turned to him, and opening his jaws asked, 'Who do you think you are, that you should redden your shining sword on Fanfir? The blade stands in my heart'. But Sigurd refused to tell the dragon his name, for its an old superstition that the words of a dying man had great power if he cursed his enemy by name."

Maja wiggled up into Peter's lap, clinging to her brother with a soft pout. "Uncle Emil, your stories are scary…"

To which Iceland gave a small laugh, looking at his niece with a smile. "They're your stories too, Maja… Did you know your Father knew Sigurd?" At her gasp he nodded, refolding his legs back up under his thighs. "Just like Uncle Denmark knew that one hero…beno…beo…?" He gave a light shrug; it wasn't his nation's story, no harm in letting that one slip. "Anyways. You want me to con-"

A knock on the door made the teenage Nordic stop short and look. Scowling, he pushed himself from the bed. "Who the hell is bothering me now…?" Emil strode over to the door, grumbling all the way as he peeked out the peek-hole. When he found the hall empty, the nation gave an annoyed growl. "Stupid pranking hotel brats."

Walking back, Emil paused to give Alfonzo a look when the kid had his phone open and held in his hands. There was the usual banner with the little white letter symbol on the screan. "Hey, Alfonzo, you know better man," but he couldn't help but chuckle when Alfonzo held out the phone to Iceland with a guilty, appologetic face.

He was just about to take the phone back when something out the window caught his attention. Emil's eyes narrowed and he leaned a bit in the window's direction, phone forgotten. "What on ear-"

That was when the window shattered and the lithe nation was thrown back onto the bed.

* * *

_Author's Note: Aww, sorry Emi..._

_I do not own The Lay of Fafnir. It is a story included in the Poetic Edda, my particular version coming from the translation by Carolyne Larrington. Again, don't own Hetalia either, le sigh._


	12. Sorry Ali!

"Gilbert?" Walking through the halls, Matthew frowned softly. "Gilbert are you hiding again? Please don't pop out on me again; I hate it when you do that…" But no response answered him in the seemingly empty D.C. apartment. Sighing softly, he walked back into the kitchen with fingers running through his hair.

An eyebrow rose when he found the sliding door opened a crack. _Maybe he took them outside?_ Wrapping his arms tight to his chest to fight off the early spring chill, Canada popped his head outside to check around the gated back yard. "Gil…?" A quick scan had the nation frowning at the object out by America's tool shed. With a sigh, he stepped out of the house carefully and walked over. "Gilbert, are you playing hide-and-seek aga…!"

He stopped short, a hand rising to cover his mouth and ineffectively hide a strangled cry. "Gilbert!" Rushing to kneel beside the fallen nation, he reached out to touch the other's cheeks in his chilled fingers. "Gilbert, wake up! What happened?!"

The ex-nation remained silent, laying in the grass where he had been haphazardly thrown beside the shed and bushes. Crimson streams ran down from his hair line, marring his pale skin as Canada smeared it trying to revive the nation.

Behind him, the sliding door slammed shut.

Canada froze, clutching to Gilbert's face as he looked up with wide eyes. Slowly, he turned to glance over his shoulder, staring at the blinds swaying inside the house. "…God have mercy," he whispered, standing up slowly. A hesitant gaze was sent back at Gilbert before Canada disappeared into the shed, momentarily reappearing with one of Alfred's hammers in hand.

He crept back towards the house, hammer held tight in his hands. Fingers easily pulled open the door, causing the nation's eyebrows to furrow together when he slipped back into the house. Hammer up, ready to hit, Matthew turned his head down the hall where a soft crash caught his attention.

Pausing outside the living room arch, back pressed into the wall, the Canadian nation let out a steadying sigh. He spun out in front of the entry-way, hammer up, and eyes looking for their target. He was rewarded with a high-picked scream and the sound of a table upturning. He startled himself into dropping the hammer, rushing forward to collect the sobbing child now trying to shove themselves behind the TV.

"Alistair! Alistair, I'm sorry honey!" Matthew fell to his knees, arms out to the boy. "Come here, I'm so sorry, Ali!" He gave the whimpering child a nervous smile nodding as he wiggled his fingers at him. He frowned when the boy before him suddenly started to shove himself back behind the TV screaming wide eyes looking over his uncle's shoulders.

"Alist-" and so the world went black with a crack against his head.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_And the wheels begin to turn. ...and yet I don't own Hetalia..._


	13. Well this was bound to happen

"And that's how we'll clean up the oceans!"

England drummed his fingers on the conference table, watched as America wrapped up his speech. The younger nation slammed his hands down on the podium, startling awake several of the nations. Arthur chuckled lightly, glancing around the room catching sight of a particularly shaking Italy trying to hide into Ludwig's side with a string of Ve's.

Sighing softly, Germany stood, trying hard to ignore the Italian nation clinging to his waist. "Now would be a good time for a break, nein? Any objections?" Around the table, nations answered eagerly at the idea of getting out of the stuffy room. "Alright then, let's break for lunch. Everyone please try to be back in about an hour, and we'll pick up with Russia's speech."

All around the room, nations divided up into their small families. Waiting for his loud-mouthed hero to come back to his seat, England sat back and let his eyes wander. His gaze fell onto the Asians first, and Arthur felt an eyebrow rise at the look on his former colony's face. The youth was staring down at his phone with an expression the British isle could only describe as a mixture of stoic concern and anxiety. China caught the expression, leaning over to ask his brother a question, which was answered with a scowl on the younger's face.

"Maybe he left his phone in the bathroom?"

Letting his eyes drift over to the Nordics, England found them in a similar situation. Norway sat, staring down at his phone with a frown as Tino leaned over the arm of the chair looking at it too with wide eyes. "But Iceland never leaves his phone out of reach," the stoic-faced nation replied, breaking away to glance up at Tino. "Maybe something happened…"

"Nah, I'm sure Ice is just busy or something," laughing loudly, Mathais clapped Lukas on the shoulder, earning a stern glare from the other. "Or the kiddies are keeping his busy, hiding his phone on him."

England's line of sight was blocked by America flopping down loudly into his seat. The nation turned to grin brightly at Arthur, leaning back into his chair with arms folding to cushion the back of his head. "Pretty epic speech, right? TOTALLY rocked it!"

Nodding absentmindedly, Arthur moved to fish his own phone from his pocket. "Have you heard anything from your brother?" Green eyes glanced back up to his American nation questioningly.

"Nah, not a peep." He grinned absentmindedly, moving to rest his up on the maple table. He laughed loudly when Arthur slapped at his shins without even looking. "I'm sure they're fine! I don't know of a kid alive that Gilbert couldn't handle!"

Arthur shook his head, sighing harshly as he flipped open the out-dated phone and began fishing through the phone book. Soft clicking caused the Brit to look over and see his American dialing the number into his iPhone. "…thank you, love." Ha pat the other's knee, smiling at the nation's contagious grin.

However, the smile fell slightly after and the nation pulled his phone away to glare at it. "That's strange…Mattie always answers on the first call…" He glanced over to Arthur for a moment before turning back to his phone and trying again. The same result came about in the end.

"How about Gilbert, do you have his number…?" Frowning, England settled deeper into his seat. Oh how desperately he wanted a hot cuppa to calm his nerves.

Scowling at his phone, Alfred leaned back to glance over to the door. "Oi! Ludwig! Have you heard from Gilbert?"

Ludwig stopped at the doorway, looking back into the room he had hoped to escape from for lunch. "Ah, no, sorry… Isn't he supposed to be watching your kinders…?" America nodded a frown on his usual cheery face. Sighing softly, Ludwig stepped slightly to the side as he pulled out his phone, leaving place for Italy to pop his head back into the room.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Alfred! Maybe they're just taking siestas! It is around that time anyways!" He grinned happily, eyes glancing over towards Lovino trying to smack a sleeping Spaniard awake beside him.

Arthur paused, glancing up towards the shadow that fell over him. He frowned softly when he saw Japan standing over him.

"Pardon the intrusion, Arthur-san… But you can't reach Canada-san or Prussia-san? Hong Kong seems to be having issues contacting Emil-san."

"You too?!" Both heads glanced up and over towards the Nordic nations. Finland leaned on the table, staring at the two with wide eyes. "We can't get a hold of Ice either! Oh dear, I hope everything's ok…."

Lovino snapped his head up, turning towards the two groups. "What do you mean you can't get a hold of him?!" Hands slammed down onto the table, startling the napping Spaniard awake. "I swear to god if he's off somewhere ignoring my sons…"

"Lovi, calm down," Spain said softly, reaching out to place his hand over the other's wrist. He smiled up brightly at the scowl. "He's probably playing hide-and-seek or something with the bambinos, you know how Leo loves that game…"

Scowling, Sweden stepped away from the group. Finland caught his husband's actions, reaching out to grab the other by the shirt sleeve. "Berwald…?"

"'m gonna go ch'ck 'n th'm," he replied to the unspoken question. "Ya g'ys keep tr'ng to g't a h'ld 'f th'em… I'll be b'ck so'n." Slipping into the familiar folds of his blue trench coat, he gave Finland what few could call a smile before he strode from the conference room.

Down on the streets, Berwald tucked the collar of his coat up and snuggled into it. His hand absentmindedly played with the slick phone in his pocket, and he dared a moment to take it out and attempt a brief call to the unreachable Nordic. There was a chill settling in his bones that just refused to sit right with the old Viking.

_This isn't right_, he thought, steps brisk and far apart. _Iceland always gets back to us_...

He began to breathe again when the call went through on the third ring.

"Em'l? Are ya 'lright? Yer br'ther's worried…"

He was responded with sniffles and whimpers. Pulling his eyebrows further into a glare, Berwald sped up his steps, all the while tightening his hold on the phone.

"Ice…?"

There were more whimpers and a shuffle on the line before the phone beeped as a key was hit on the other side. Berwald quickly started to sprint as ice pumped through his veins.

"D'nt talk," he instructed, face serious as he shoved his way through the crowds of D.C. "Stay ex'ctly wh're yer h'ding. 'm c'ming t' g't ya, d'nt w'rry." There was a brief noise of compliance before Berwald hastily slammed his thumb down on the red END key. He quickly held down the number two before holding the phone back up to his face.

"…Berwald? Berwald, what's wrong? You sound winded! Are you alright?"

"T'no. S'methings wr'ng."

On the other side of the line, the small Finnish man mad a strangled noise as he quickly stood. His chair fell over, and all the eyes in the room turned to him in worry. Tino looked at the others, a wide scan of the room with eyes so wide and fear-stricken that it reminded Russia of the winter wars of their youth.

"The children," was all his strangled voice managed to get out before a flurry of movement had all the nations rushing from the meeting room.

* * *

_Author's notes:_

_Wow that was a bunch of writing in one day. Enjoy peoples! Peace Out! _

_And no, I don't own Hetalia =P_


	14. We're going Viking

Berwald raced up the stairway three steps at a time. The damn elevator had been filled, and the Swedish nation was positive he heard several scream when they saw him running into the building. Now, shouldering his way through the 7th floor stairwell door, he took down off the hall with a fire burning in his blood he hadn't felt since there was a broad-sword in his palm.

Coat billowing out behind him, Berwald stopped before Lovino's room, giving the room number a brief one over. The handle was locked, and the nation stepped back with a snarl on his lips. Not even bothering with fetching a hotel-hand, he ramming his shoulder first the heavy fire door.

It gave way beneath the Northern Lion, but not without the promise of a bruise forming on his arm.

"Ice?!" Stepping in, he looked down at the crunch beneath his feet. Scattered across the floor were the remains of shattered glass and lamp-pieces, flicked red in occasional piece. "….Em'l?! Pet'r?!" He turned the corner, pausing dead in his tracks at the side of the destroyed room before him.

Lamps that had once graced the tables next to the king-sized bed were shattered where they had hit the walls; littering the dark carpet. The window was damaged beyond hope, neatly shattered from the center out and sprayed over the room.

Then his breathe caught in his throat at the sight waiting for his eyes on the bed. His youngest brother was laying there, eagle spread and bleeding, with red blossoming like a dangerous rose from the wound on his shoulder.

"Emil!" Rushing forward, the large nation found himself with a knee on the mattress, hands gently shaking the wounded nation before him. "Emil w'ke up! Wh't happ'n'd?!" The large nation began to strip of his coat, crumbling it up to press up against the lazily bleeding wound.

The lithe nation gave a groan at the pressure on his body, face contorting in pain as his head turned away.

_Thank the gods… Pain is good, pain means they're alive_, Berwald thought solemnly. He gave a rougher shake to the nation's shoulder with a red-stained hand and Emil began to struggle and open dazed eyes.

"Nor…" yet when those unfocused eyes landed on Berwald, Emil closed them again with a soft sigh. "…Sweden…"

"Icel'nd, wh't happ'n'd?" He repeated, heart falling into his stomach as Iceland's face contorted into a close-eyed scowl.

"I…..I don't…Was talking to Al-Alfonzo…kid had my phone…" There was a weak moan from him as he moved lightly, trying to get out from beneath Berwald's heavy hands. "Shattered the window….hi-hit me….hit me there…" His good arm shook as it tried to indicate to the bleeding hole under the coat. "Tried my best….to fight 'em off…but they..." A strangled gasp escaped the nation and his eyes snapped open. Weak fingers clutched at the nation's hand as he shook all over. "Sweden… Where's Aleks and Kristina…?" He struggled to stand up only to be pushed back down by Sweden. "Where are they?!"

Sweden shook his head, and making sure the coat was tight on the other's shoulder, went to stand. "'m not s're… st'y h're… I'm g'nna go f'nd out."

The others would be there soon, Finland would have seen to that. Confidant that Iceland wasn't moving from his place on the bed, Sweden turned to inspect the remainder of the hotel room. He paused in the hall for a momet, turning in slow horror to see a knit hat abandoned on the floor, just exposed by the opened bathroom door.

Storming into the small room, Berwald let out a low growl as he picked up the hat; the very same hat Finland had made Sealand last Christmas.

"Skit!" he shouted, spinning as his fist connected to the wall. There was a muted scream in the room and the sound of bottles clattering, forcing Berwald to hold his breath and listen. Sharp blue eyes scanned the room, narrowing his search down onto the cupboard beneath the sink.

"….'t's alr'ght… 'm n't gonna h'rt ya…" Berwald knelt before the cupboard, reaching out slowly for the granite knobs. "'s alr'ight…" Slowly pulling the doors open, an encouraging smile on his face (or so he hoped).

A frightened and teary pair of golden-honey eyes looked up at him before Alfonzo launched himself at the taller nation and proceeded to sob into the other's chest.

Berwald's heart fell when he saw that the child and Iceland's phone were the only things in the cupboard.

"Is….Is th're any'ne else…?" He struggled to ask, glancing down at the child in his arms. Between the sobs and hiccups, Berwald barely heard "no" and "momma".

Out in the hall, Berwald could hear the unmistakable shouts of an angry Danish warrior with decades of Viking blood in him. Hushing Alfonzo, he cradled the child to his chest and stepped from the damaged room.

"Alfonzo!"

The shout caught the bawling boy's attention, and Alfonzo began to squirm in the Nordic nation's arms, seeking blindly for his mother's arms, scream-crying "Momma!" over and over. Berwald looked away guiltily as Lovino collected his oldest into his arms with soothing noises and kisses to those wild brown curls. All the while long, the boy began a whole new round of sobs and tried to become one with his mother's body.

Berwald couldn't bear to look Feliciano in the eyes as the other Italian nation stared at him in heart break.

Instead, he stepped away from them, head bent down low as Norway rushed into the room with Denmark on his heels. Hell, he could barely look Finland in the eye when the shorter nation came up to him.

The violet-haired man looked up at his husband with a soft frown on his face. "…Peter," Berwald nodded, turning his glare dark at the floor and his feet. "…and Maja…" another guilt-ridden nod. "…and oh god…the twins… Berwald, they're all gone." Both Nordics jumped at the sudden shout from the room at Denmark's realization.

The giant of a nation flinched when Finland slowly wrapped his arms around him, resting his head onto Berwald's chest with a soft whine. He wrapped his arms around his wife, glancing down the hall at the accompanying nations. Ludwig stood in disbelief, his blue eyes wide as he tried to take in the fact that his daughter was gone, Feliciano curling in on himself with a hand pressed up against his lips. Further down the hall, Berwald saw Lovino and Antonio huddled around the wailing Alfonzo, consoling him, telling him over and over again how brave he was, that his brother was alright, that it wasn't his fault.

Oh god, how could that child ever think it was his fault…

America stood laughing in disbelief further down the hall, a strange look in his eyes that many had not seen since his towers fell all those years ago. "Those fucking bastards," he groaned out between laughs, England turning away to rush from the building and check to see if the horrible had happened to them.

It was disheartening to see the great American nation not even bothering to go see if it was a lie; he already knew why his brother hadn't answered their calls.

Slowly, a snarl ripped its way through the former Viking's throat. Finland clutched to him only stronger, shaking with a sigh as he barely heard his husband spit out "they'r de'd" and accepting it with a weak nod.

This was no idle threat made in the heat of the moment; it was a promise that ever god from their past gave their consent to, a promise that blood would be paid for the crimes enacted towards their children.

An arm tightened around Finland's waist, and he looked up to see a placid face barely concealing the beast within. He remembered the days when he would scream at that expression, but now it only gave him power and drive. "St'y with ev'ryone. I'm go'ng to go look."

"Hang on," Finland barely managed out before his husband could get so far as remove his arm from him. "We…we need to find out what's going on and think of a plan. At this rate, Berwald, they're probably out of the city."

"Not likely, comrade," Russia stepped up behind the two nations, staring at the scene before him. He and several of the other nations had followed when the nations rushed from the UN, and now stood silently a few feet behind the Russian nation.

Finland cast the other a weary glance. The tall nation watched with an emotionless expression, his hands clamped tightly behind his back while his startling violet eyes shifted from nation to nation. A smile spread across the former KGB's leaders face as the air seemed to darken around them. "I've leant my remaining police to the city streets. A rat won't cross the river without me knowing about it, comrade." His gaze shifted down towards the shorter nation and he smiled sweetly. "Neighbors need to watch out for each other, da?" at which he turned around and walked away, his sister at his side.

"…All th' m're reas'n to go o't now…" giving Finland a reassuring pat to the shoulder, Berwald slowly detached himself from his wife's arms. Glancing towards the door, his eyes met with Mathais'. The former king turned to him, a wicked smile cracking in two. Tino flinched at it, understanding now why Peter sometimes compared his Uncle to the Cheshire cat.

"Waldo,"

"Get yer co't on… We're go'ng vik'n."

* * *

_Author's Note: My this is getting quite long...maybe I should put it in its own story? ...naaah, they're shooort. =]_

_Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the soundtrack in my mind_


	15. IOU Arthur

Throwing open the apartment door, Arthur shot into the D.C. home with name shouting from his mouth. He came to a sudden halt by the entrance of the family room, slowly looking into the room in horror. The English nation choked at the scene of Gilbert kneeling beside the unconscious Canada; both nations had blood clotted around their heads, and when Prussia looked up at the doorway, his gaze was still unfocused and dazed.

"Bastards god Birdie," he said with a weak groan. "Snuck up on me out by the shed…tricked him good from the looks of it." The albino man turned back to the other resting his head in Prussia's lap. "…There is going to be hell to pay for this…"

England nodded, rushing into the room to check over the unconscious of the two. "Call Alfred," he said weakly, standing up to scope around the home. "Tell him whatever you like, but you best damn well have his arse here in ten bloody minutes or so help me." Storming from the room, Arthur followed the path of destruction upstairs.

He ignored the damaged walls, stepping over the tipped tables with narrowed eyes and a temper brewing that would put the wildest tempest to shame. Snarling, he paused outside his son's bedroom, pushing open the damaged door with his fingertips.

There smiling mockingly at him from the wall, a bright yellow smiley-face was spray painted on the wall; a folded paper taped to the nose. "You cheeky little bastard," he snarled out, reaching to rip the note from the wall. The old pirate snapped it open, scanning it over with venomous eyes.

_Iggy! Long time no see! Sad to say I can't take all the credit for this lovely adventure. Guess I'll just have to give you a better game next time to make up for it!_

_Can you believe how many groups jumped at the idea of that crazy boy when they found out just what you are? Crazy, right?! Oh it was a beautiful thing, my resources, their brains. It'll be a masterpiece to watch them burn up under your wrath. Silly little boys, they should know not to mess with you so early in the game. Your eyes always could set fire to anything in your path._

_Give that ridiculous nation of yours a cheery 'ello for me, Arttie-dear! Till next time!_

_I.O.U._

"….you sodding bastard, I'll rip your tongue out."

"Arthur…?"

Spinning on his heel, note crumbling in his hand, Arthur regarded the other before him with a narrow glare. Alfred looked back at him, his outfit exchanged for one more practical for the hunt. The nation folded his arms lightly. "We're taking to the streets… I'll bring them home, Arttie."

"Bloody hell you will." Snarling, Arthur threw the note to the floor and stalked out of the room. "Don't you dare think you're leaving me out of this hunt for a moment."

Alfred chuckled dryly at that, following his husband down the stairs. All the while Arthur shed the unnecessary; a tie hanging from the banister, his jacket abandoned on the floor. The old Browning caught America's eyes as it sat tucked away in the back belt of his fellow-nation's pants.

"Always packing now, Arthur?"

"Only for the mad men, love."


	16. Give 'em hell, Danny Boy

They had gathered outside the hotel building; an odd group of men with an air about them that had the passing crowds granting them a wide berth. An unspoken proposal had been agreed upon as they waited for their other nations to return from the side trip down the streets of D.C.

In the end, they found themselves breaking into groups. Denmark and Sweden stood by the edge of the group with eyes locked onto the others; all the while shifting uncomfortably on their feet. Antonio was feet away, whispering words between Lovino and comforting touches to Alfonzo tucked away in his mother's arms. Feliciano was not far from his brother, staring at Ludwig from the crowd with an unsettling look about the nation. It made the older nations cringe.

"Ludwig," he breathed, staring his German down with purpose. "Portare la nostra figlia a casa." His eyes narrowed as the lithe's nation chin rose slightly. "E non tornare a casa senza quei bastardi appesi alle croci per occhi di tutti." He spit on the ground in disgust, as if he had uttered some foreign curse and he had to purify himself against bad luck.

Berwald caught Tino's eye from the crowd and the shorter nation gave him an exhausted smile. He strode over to the taller Nordic nations, stopping right before Berwald to look up at him. "I'll be on the streets as soon as we get Emil looked after," he whispered up to him. A brief glance in Denmark's direction found the former Viking glaring out at the streets. "It shouldn't be too long."

Just then they heard the shouts for attention down the street, and all turned to see America sprinting towards them with England on his heels. By the time the nation had settled before them, breath coming in quick uneven pants, the others were itching to move. "Bastards got Mattie and Gilbert to. I'm gonna kill them!" Across the crowd he could hear the low growl coming from the German nation.

As the others began to split up and take over the city, America paused at a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see England glaring up at him, lips thin and pressed together in a deadly straight line. Venom practically swam in the other's eyes; god how he loved this frighteningly beautiful nation beside him.

Slowly, Arthur began to smile; a cruel shadow of the nation's past. "Give 'em hell, Danny Boy," he said, causing his bomber to grin blindingly. With that, America turned and rushed off to join his fellow nations in their prowl of the American capital, England turning away to carve his own path on the concrete streets.

"Give them fucking hell."


	17. German ghosts and Viking warriors

They had reminded him of cats the way they prowled the streets. Berwald and Mathais had ended up breaking away from the Germanic nation to take up a rout along the Potomac River and Tidal Basic area, claiming that they could work faster together and have Germany head the other way. Ludwig hardly doubted them; he had heard the legends of the Vikings and in fact, he was beginning to doubt anything could stand in that pair's way.

Family members had been called in and neighboring nations took to the street moments after news had spread of the situation. The blonde nation scowled, fond memories tarnished when he thought back to the call from Gilbert moments after he had left.

Cerulean eyes narrowed as he followed a path between tombstones; a deathly silence leaving the man to his thoughts. Like a billowing cape the Grim Reaper would be proud to own, his trench-coat flowed out behind him as eyes combed over the grounds of Mt. Olivet Cemetery.

_Why would they even be here?_

Shaking his head, the German tried to dispel the voice mocking him from his mind. The cemetery had seemed like a fine place to start moments ago; silent, practically empty. Perfect to slip through a portion of the city unnoticed.

The soft beep from his phone drew the nation's attention away for a brief moment to glance at the message.

**Tino's in the city**.

For the first time Ludwig chuckled at the thought. It was a fitting place for the trained sniper to sit. There was no doubt in Ludwig's mind that he'd find the short Nordic nation perched atop some sky-scraper with a gun cocked to his shoulder.

A soft snap to his left made the nation freeze. He quickly turned; a frightening memory flashing in his mind as his coat billowed out behind him like the Angel of Death he once revered and ran from. A flash of movement caught his gaze, darting in and out of sight.

_There. Between the tombs_.

A figure weaved between the headstones, turning to find the nation staring them down from his place among the graves. Against their chest was a bundle, covered tightly by the edges of their coat. A flash of silver from the edge however was all it took to set German blood on fire.

They let out a startled scream as the dark angel began sweeping towards them. In the end, their haste was their downfall, and they fell to the ground with their foot hooked around a wreath's wire legs.

Turning to their back, they found Ludwig's dark face feet above them.

"W-wait! I can tell you everything!"

Pity cries, hands in the air begging for mercy. Germany slowly exhaled, lowering his gun as a logical part of his brain screamed along with her. She would know where the others were, where the master-mind of the entire plot lay hiding.

But then he saw his nephew squirm and the dried blood that littered his arm. She was silenced with a bullet neatly placed between her eyes.

The hot metal left a bitter sear against the nation's back as Ludwig tucked it into the back of his pants. He took the child into his arms, tucking Frederick beneath his chin in hopes the embrace would calm the hyperventilating child.

Eyes a stormy blue, he snarled down at the corpse; her eyes stared blankly up at the heavens now. Southward his feral eyes turned, and away Ludwig walked, the blind-fold once wrapped around his nephew's face now floating freely back towards the graves.

* * *

Alfred paced in front of Lincoln's feet, occasionally glancing out at the mall that spanned before him. Several steps down from him, a man he never thought to call ally again was sweeping the crowd with thin, deadly eyes. Alfred remembered hearing the former Soviet Union giving orders to the Baltics to block off the exits of the mall, his deadly sisters to patrol its crowds, and the silent police to stalk the prey.

America's eyes narrowed; he'd have to address Russia's habit of bringing his enforcers into _his_ city.

"There," Ivan barely whispered, causing America to rush down the steps to his side. The American nation followed the other's eyesight, briefly catching the figure of suspicion darting between the crowds. The flash of copper, a long-stretch in the end Alfred would later admit, caught both of their eyes, and soon Ivan was off.

Alfred had to race to keep up with the tall man, shoulders crashing into unsuspecting people that got in his path. Possible outcomes were already falling into place in the young nation's mind as he struggled to follow his companion's path. When his mind finally caught up to the path the target was taking them on, his heart fell into his stomach.

"Ivan," he managed to choke up. "The Basin…they're… They're headed right for the basin!" In a burst of sped, he rushed past the other. As they broke from the crowded plaza and took up the path behind their pursued target, the American nation prayed to God for some form of intervention, just this once.

All circumstances withstanding, it was a nice day at the very least.

Tino sighed softly in annoyance as he shouldered his sniper and pulled away from the scope. Not even the comforting, familiar weight of the metal gave him a sense of grounding. He was the worried parent, floating above the crowds as he prayed for the impossible. His eyes drifted towards the side, greatful to find Vash still scanning the crowds from the other side of the building.

"This is starting to become impossible," the Finnish nation groaned out. An eyebrow rose as the phone beside his hip began to sing to him; another contradicting sign that the world was still moving despite his stopping. He flipped it open, pressing it to his ear just in time to hear the shouts from the other end.

"Tino, we're running him your way!" Eyes wide, Finland lay back down to quickly peer out his scope. "Should be turning the corner soon!"

Sure enough, a figure raced around the corner, sending several civilians screaming and rushing to get out of the other's way. Finland almost laughed at the surprised police turning to the scene; god why were they so slow?

Glancing down the road, Tino's eyes narrowed on the entrance to the metro._ There_, his mind whispered, heart racing to catch up with the moment. His finger flexed instinctively over the trigger; old friends reuniting again for this morbid dance. Breathing out slowly, Tino tightened his hand.

Feet from the entrance, the man crumbled and tripped over his legs. It reminded the Finnish man of deer after they had been shot; feet still kicking in the air as the adrenalin took time to settle down. He chuckled lightly, sitting back and ignorant to the wide-eyed nation running up beside him. Down below he watched Lukas and Li Xiao sprint up; the former soon on his knees to pull a bundle away from the body as all around them civilians screamed and police moved to block off the area.

Tino smiled, turning to his phone again to send out a silent text.

"Fuck!" Matthais scanned the bank of the river for the fifth time, and upon his discovery of nothing new had effectively swung….and gotten stuck…his battle ax into one of the tree surrounding the path. He snarled at it, grateful Berwald allowed him the time to fight with his old weapon to free it from the sapling's bark. It soothed_ some_ of the raging wolf in him.

"I'll fucking murder them!" He spat as he finally freed the blade. Snapping his glare in the direction of Sweden, he reiterated his blood-lust with a low-throated growl. "Murder!"

The old lion merely glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. His phone buzzing however drew his attention away again, and when he glanced down at it, a wave of relief fell over him. "Th'y f'nd Aleks…" The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as Denmark choked in the background.

_Lukas ran the man right to my sights. He had Aleks. I hope Alfred doesn't mind the mess I made on his street._

Suddenly the old king of Scandinavia was snatching Berwald's phone away to see for himself the semi-holy message. He gave a barking laugh, hand in his hair when Sweden snatched his phone away. "Bastards deserved it," Mathais said laughing. "Should know better than to fuck with that cold-blooded sniper of your's, Waldo." Dancing eyes turned to his partner in crime, and the shit-eating grin spread on Mathais' face. It slowly fell however, causing Berwald to frown.

"Denmark…?"

The other glanced back to Berwald for the briefest of moments before motioning his chin in the direction behind Sweden. The nation turned, scowl deepening as he saw the figure slowing in their jog towards them.

Denmark cracked his neck lightly, hopping down from the light back and onto the path. He stood, ax over his shoulder and hand in his pocket as he eyed the figure before them, an unstable grin on his lips. "Nice prize yah got there…" Slowly, he began to stalk towards him, Sweden soon behind him. "Hand the kid over, and maybe I won't let Waldo rip off your arms. He quite likes that you see." He laughed as their target stumbled back, arms tightening around the child that began to scream for the loud wolf's attention.

Berwald cracked his knuckles while stepping around Denmark. "L'ke heil you w'll."


	18. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned

Arthur took up his path through the crowded city streets with solemn demeanor and narrow eyes. While he trusted Alfred to give the men their just rewards, the nation couldn't help but feel his skin crawl when he thought back to that note. An I.O.U. was the only signature, but it was enough.

His hands fisted by his sides as he stalked down Wisconsin Avenue, eyes trained on the crowd as he searched for something, anything. In the haze of his thoughts, he found himself before the Cathedral doors.

He looked upon them in a haze of thought, hands pushing out to open the doors and allow the nation to enter and empty his physic of this foreign feeling of desperation. The dark embraced him with warm air and the rush of barely burning incense.

Arthur paused in the main body of the cathedral, looking up to image of the crucifixion before him. The Christian martyr stared back at him with downcast eyes and a knowing smile upon his hung head.

"I never said that I was a holy man," he whispered staring up at the figure. "Constantly torn apart by government and myself. But you have granted me sanctuary where none would have before. Given me kindness and solace in times of need. Please," green eyes closed as the nation fought back the anxiety creeping up his throat. "One last time, please."

He allowed the silence to sooth him; pacify nerves that hadn't seen peace since the end of the War. But clapping disturbed him, and with a scowl, the nation turned to face the choir loft.

Above him, the man smiled, clapping at the nation standing below him.

"You're a funny little man, you know that?" They laughed, head tilted as they stared their nation down. "Coming to God when you should be finding those precious little tots of yours. I'll admit," he shrugged dramatically, turning to walk down the length of the railing. "It's a little mundane for my taste; kidnap kids, bribe governments, anarchy and chaos and all that. But you must admit," he sighed, waving a hand loosely towards the nation. "It sure as hell got a rise outta you, didn't it? How many have you retrieved so far?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man before him, ignoring the anger threatening to spill and lash out. The light Irish accent continued to mock him from the stands.

"See now, _Iggy_, that is what he calls you, right?" Smirking, the man leaned on the railing, idling popping his bubble gum. "This is why you and your precious British Government should stay out of my way; my knowledge is very _valuable_ amongst the lower dogs of the society you crafted. What will you do when you jump at every shadow? Sick that heart attack in a bomb jacket on me?" An eyebrow rose in mockery. "Well I'll just let you in on a little secret, my dear England. Your precious nation will bow before me before you can even lift a finger in retaliation. Ah!" He backed away grinning like a mad man as he ticked his finger side to side in response to England's snarl. "Not so fast! You think I'd present myself to _you_ without some form of collateral if you decided to get too jumpy?"

In a wide sweeping arch, the man's hand drew England's gaze to the altar. The nation's breath hitched in his throat as he watched another hold a gun to the head of a bleeding Peter. "Tata, my dear. Have fun begging your God for _that _miracle!"

England's eyes never left the scene before him.

"You have a lot of cheek, boy," the old nation managed to breathe out. A door slamming behind him let England know the only company existed between him and his new target now. The other would have to wait, sadly. "Showing yourself to me this early in your game." He was smirking now, the damn nation could feel it pricking at the corners of his lips; the pirate was slipping out. "Tell me, what did he promise you? Help in your little game? That fool only lives to see them _fall_."

"Shut up!" the assailant screamed, tightening his hold and burrowing the hand-gun further into Peter's temple. "You don't know anythi-"

"Oh but I do!" Laughing loudly now, Arthur began to stalk up towards his prey. Venom green eyes watched calculatingly as the other's hand began to shake, his skin shed several colors of pigment, and sweat begin to form along his brow. "I know VERY well what that man does! His games, your all his puzzle pieces! Now be a good lad and give me the boy. I might be able to spare you the harsher punishments if you'd just cooperate now." Arthur stopped; they were only a yard or two apart now and he could practically _smell_ the turmoil rolling off this man. "Just tell me names, and I'll keep them away."

The man shook before him; it was a familiar face to the nation having seen so many like his in battles. With wide eyes, the man glanced towards Peter, practically screaming when the micronation's eyes shifted up towards him.

"Monsters," he said, barely above a whisper. "Yer all monsters," quivering eyes turned back to England to find the nation before him glaring. "It's all your faults isn't it? Why we war, why we lose brothers and sisters? All because of your greed and sins we die!" Screaming, he turned his gun to Arthur. "It's all because of you!"

Arthur was faster in the end, his Browning in the air and firing before the other man could react. However, he was not without the consequences, and the familiar searing of metal through fresh made the nation stumble back on impact as lead neatly imbedded itself into his hip.

Shuddering, the nation dropped his gun while a hand went to cover the freely bleeding area. He pushed against it, wincing against the dull burn his nerves still sent to his mind, and sparing a moment, he glanced towards the angels and cross just above the table of sacrament and cloth. "Ignosce mihi pater, quia peccavi."*

As he walked, the pain began to fade, and Arthur barely managed to collect himself when he came to Peter's side. "…ya al'ight, lad? Nothing too bad?" He winced as the old accent slipped into the more casual street-dialect of his people.

Sealand looked up at Arthur for a moment, having fallen to the ground when his captor shoved him away. The small nation suddenly gasped, looking green to his stomach as he regarded the sight of his older brother before him. "You're bleeding!" he croaked out, pointing out to Arthur once again the new hole in his body. "Arthur, you dummy! You're hurt! What do we do?!"

Weakly chuckling, England reached out to clasp his brother on the shoulder. He weakly pulled him forward and placed a placid kiss to the messy locks of the youngest Kirkland boy. "We leave. Get you looked at, find your mum and dad…" His frowned lightly as Peter pulled away. The boy stumbled a bit before regaining himself and walking beside the altar. "…Lad?"

"We can't forget her," Peter whispered as he leaned down. "U-Uncle Mathais would kill me."

Arthur smiled in relief when he watched Sealand stand back up with the second part of Denmark's twin equation in his arms. "And you kept her safe this whole time." Peter absentmindedly nodded to the statement as he walked back to Arthur. The blonde nation chuckled as he struggled to stand. "Your uncles are going to be very proud of you, lad."

Sealand only nodded and went to lend his shoulder to his older brother as they left the cathedral.

* * *

Denmark spat onto the face of his conquered target, digging his heel into the later's chest. "Bastard! Jeg håber du rådne i helvede!" He delivered an extra good kick to the fallen for good measure, snarling at the groan the man dared to emit. Mathais turned on his heel, stalking over to Berwald at the edge of the path.

He noticed the sleeping child in the Swed's arms with a softer face; Alfred's little girl. It was a strange feeling that clawed at the old viking's chest; grief mixing bitterly with reliefe that kept the Dane on edge and a snarl in his throat to combat away the choking sensation.

"We should bring her back," he finally managed to say, turning away to glare at the river.

Berwald nodded, fishing for his phone. "I'll c'll T'no to c'me g't her..." He sent his companin nation a nervous glance; the man was beginin to pace again and Berwald was starting to worry about the trees that surrounded them.

Finland was there in three minutes after the one-syllable conversation with Berwald, arms waiting to take the small child from his giant of a husband. The toddler cuddled into the warmth that was the Fin, her hands rising to cover her face and make herself smaller.

Tino's eyes flashed over to Mathais and he gave a smile to the Dane. He was ready to lash out at him before Berwald cut him off with a glare.

"Arthur found Peter," he held a hand up as he could see the 'So?!' forming on Denmark's tongue before he could go any further. "And also Kristina. She was with Peter this whole time, he took good care of her." Tino smiled softer now as he watched Denmark's mouth hang on its hinges. "Aleks is fine, I checked in with Lukas before I left. They went back to the hospital to wait with Emil until we came back."

That got a loud whoop from Denmark, and he quickly began to pace around in a much happier tone of anxiety than his previous war-stalk. When he was far enough away, Tino's eyes turned back to Berwald with a frown. "Peter's getting looked at back with Emil. He took a fair hit to the head, but he looked alright when they checked in. England though," Violet eyes closed halfway as he glanced down to the toddler cuddling up to him. "In the scuffle, he got hit in the hip… He was in…_interesting_ shape when he showed up with Peter. I couldn't place his mood on blood loss if something really just ruffled his feathers _that_ badly. Berwald," again he looked up into those sharp blue eyes. "If you see America out there before you come back….don't tell him alright? It'll only make it that much harder on him. England'll be fine, he always is….but….with this and…us only having Alice," his voice died out in a whisper.

Sweden nodded, leaning down to place a light kiss on top of the other's head. His gaze drifted over to Denmark to find the man practically dancing about with his sword. He stopped short when he caught Berwald's eyes, and slowly a wicked grin split his face again.

"What 'cha waiting for, Wally? We still gotta go find my little niece!" Mathais laughed loudly, leaning on his ax, attitude spiking higher into the pleasant side of things at Tino's smile. Berwald chuckled at the other's antics, he always seemed to border on the manic side of any emotion. He spared Finland a small smile, the other nodding and exchanging a quick, awkward hug with his free arm before watching the tallest Nordics walk away like they owned the damn land. Finland laughed, thinking that once upon a time they almost had.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Translations:_

_England:_

_- "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."_

_Denmark:_

_- "I hope you rot in hell."_


	19. Americans

As Alfred ran across the crowded area, he pulled the hand gun from the holster on his hip. Many of his citizens and tourists cried out as they threw themselves out of his way; it wasn't everyday they saw men sprinting across the green at break-neck speed with armed guns.

_God give me strength,_ Alfred begged as he dared his body to pick up the pace.

The pair raced down the path, Alfred hearing a snarl from Ivan as they gained ground. Leave it to the chase to bring them closer to the edge, back to rushing over trenches with a gun weighing heavily in their arms. Alfred had been right; the bastard was headed straight for the large body of water.

"Ivan!" Alfred shouted as they attempted to close the remaining distance. Yet the man reached the water before they did, and Alfred watched in horror as with a startled shout, the copper-haired child flew into the air.

Ivan wasted no time in letting his bullets embed themselves into the target's body after that. Alfred continued his mad dash, abandoning coat and gun along the way before he vaulted himself over the offending railing and into the water before him. The tall Russian left behind watched as the American nation dove beneath the light waves. He looked up, an eyebrow rising at the groups watching them in mute horror across the basin.

Smiling brightly, he raised a hand and waved, igniting a flurry of movement and screams from the paddle-boaters.

_Americans_, he thought with a chuckle. He strode past the fallen criminal, leaning against the railing as he began to scan the semi-murky water for any sight of the obnoxious blonde and child. His eyes glanced towards the abandoned jacket littering the grass and he heaved a sigh; the messes they got themselves into.

Alfred broke the surface of the water gasping and coughing, holding a wailing child up above the water with a arm wrapped under his arms. The nation began swimming back to the edge, glasses askew and falling from his face with every stroke. The Russian nation smiled merrily again at the sight, moving to help his partner-in crime from the water.

Handing the child to the larger nation, Alfred began to laugh as he knelt in the grass. He looked up, grinning ridiculously at Russia and the child. "Oh Leo," he breathed out. Pushing himself to his feet, coat in hand, Alfred took Leonardo back and wrapped his coat around them both. The hiccupping child continued to whimper as he cuddled against the American nation's chest, wide emerald eyes watching Ivan.

The nation smiled, giggling lightly. _Oh Leo, indeed_. "I think you might be too small to swim yet, da?" he added, reaching out to brush a few dripping bangs from the child's face. He started to laugh louder as Leonardo held his arms out to him in an unspoken desire to exchange carriers.

* * *

There was a grin on his face and a child on his hip as Alfred strode into the hospital like the king of the world. He caught the gaze of the pretty young thing seated behind the register and flashed the timid woman his best shit-eating grin.

_No need to muscle information outta the poor thing_, he thought as he walked straight to the counter. Ivan stayed a few feet behind him, smiling happily at nurses and patients skirting around him.

"We're lookin' for a Mathew Beilschmit, miss? He should be sharing a room with a Mr. Emil Steilsson?" Alfred continued to grin as he droned on with his best Texan drawl. In response, she nodded and went to look through the files before her.

"And who should I tell the nurses are coming?" Hazel eyes glanced upwards to hold the American nation's. "Its family-only at the moment, so…"

"Alfred F. Jones, ma'am. The big lug back there is Ivan." His thumb jutted over his shoulder to Russia who gave a light wave to the receptionist and chuckling at her cringe. "I'm Mattie's brother and this guy is,"

"Emil's step-father." Well _that_ made America jumped. He turned to give a quick glare at the nation that walked silently up behind him. He was still wearing that obnoxious smile. "I believe that qualifies as family, da?"

"D-Da," the lady said softly, huddled into her seat. She quickly turned her attention back to flipping through paper work.

Leaning back, Alfred smacked Ivan against the shoulder with a pointed-look. "Dude what the fuck?" He harshly whispered, leaning closer to him. "_Step_-father? Lukas'll have your _ass_ if he hears that." The nation just sighed in defeat as Russia seemed to chuckle at the idea.

"Sirs?" both turned back to the woman. "Its room 51-E, fifth floor, East Corridor." Her eyes fell on Leonardo cuddled against Alfred's side and she frowned. "Can I…ask you one thing, sir? Its just… A memo was released to the nurses a bit ago. Apparently one of the patients that came in earlier asked to be notified if and when a Mr. Jones arrived."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Alfred leaned onto to a hip to look at her. "Kinda short, green eyes, eyebrows that could swallow a continent?" She nodded and a contagious grin spread across his face. "That's Matti's bro-in-law, its cool if he goes up to the room." He began to look around, as if expecting the short nation to appear from thin air. "Where yah hiding him?"

Slowly, she shook her head and reached out to tap the nation's arm. "19 – C, West Corridor. When he came in earlier he wasn't in the best of shape and several of the nurses had to bring him up to Emergency." She frowned lightly at the pale face staring back at her. "I'm sorry, sir."

"…Son of a bitch!" Alfred managed to gasp in a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding. Turning, he quickly handed off the surprised Leonardo to Ivan before spinning on his heel and running off.

Shaking his head lightly, Russia looked down at the startled child to find wide-green eyes looking back up at him. "Come on, малютка… Lets get you back to your mother."*

Rushing up the stairs and past startled hospital workers, the nation shouldered open the stairwell door. By the time he reaches the third floor, the nation was seriously debating on installing massive springs to vault people up floor by floor instead of these ridiculous contraptions called _steps_.

He practically fell through the metal fire door of the stairs, crashing out into the hallway wheezing and wild-eyed. The numbers on the wall closest to him read 31 – C. A quick scan around the hall, Alfred raced with the slap of sneaker soles against the tiled floor.

"Arthur!" he shouted, skidding to a halt outside the door. Throwing the door open, Alfred stood in the door way panting and squinting, trying to adjust to the darkness that plagued the room. "Ig….Iggy?"

There was a shuffle to his left and Alfred turned just in time to see a small body throwing itself at him. "Alfred!" The sudden weight against his thighs had America laughing in exhaustion. He knelt down, collecting Peter in his arms, cupping the younger boy's face in his hands to look at him in relief. His fingers shook as they brushed over the stark-white bandage wrapped under the micronation's hair.

"Peter," Alfred managed to croak out. He couldn't help but pull the boy against him again when Peter started to whine softly. "Shh, it's ok," a chaste kiss was placed atop the child's head as Alfred continued to weakly laugh. "Don't cry, Peter, it's ok… Tino's here and your dad's coming soon… It'll be alright…"

Small arms circled around Alfred, but the larger nation's words seemed to have worked their magic and the smaller nation ceased in his momentary shakes. Peter pulled away, glancing further into the room and drawing Alfred's eyes along with him. The American nation slowly stood at the green eyes regarding him dully from beneath the mop of auburn hair.

"Calm down, Lad. Ya should be more concerned about the bloomin idiot that gets himself invalid so quickly."

"I'm bleeding. You can't make fun of me when I'm bleeding, you arse." Acid green eyes drifted over to America and a slender smile spread across the pale face. "As for you; you're late, _again_."

America laughed, an arm wrapping around Peter. "Hero's are never late! We arrive right when we're needed!"

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_Translations_

_Russia_

_- "Little One"_


	20. Why you should do head-counts

Crossing his arms, Allistor frowned as he pressed his back against the wall and crossed his legs at the ankles. The Scottish nation found the scene before him humorous; what with the way his younger brother was trying (and failing) at shoving the annoying loud American nation off of him.

"You're gonna break him," he chuckled while shaking his head. Arthur's insults only flowed more freely at the comment. "At least wait until Wales and North get back; they'd pay good money to see Arthur in this state." He laughed only louder when Arthur's insults turned back on him.

Peter sat by the door, looking at his older brothers with a lightly frown. The small micro-nation knew an injury wouldn't keep Arthur down for long, but still to see them in such action made it all seem somewhat surreal. Hell, even Emil had been up and protesting his brother's smothering when Peter last checked in on his uncles; it was only a matter of time before the Icelandic nation was on his feet rushing to get away from the other Nordics. Their attitudes made Peter feel like they were back at home already, that none of this had or was still happening. But still, to appease the masses, they had to play by human rules despite it all and lay in bed like good little patients.

_That's fine_, Peter thought sadly, folding his legs up to his chest. _Human kids are allowed to want their Papa, right…? I don't want to be Sealand right now._ With a light whine, Peter hid his face between his knees. _I want to be Peter with Mama and Papa and Maja…_

Then it dawned on the small nation, and he glanced up at his brother and America. "Hey, Al? ….where's Alistair?"

Peter barely caught the scowl rising on Scotland's face; he was too focused on the color draining from Alfred's face.

"Aie, where _are_ ya hiding my nephew, Alfred?" Allistor said slowly, regarding the nation with narrowing eyes.

"I uh…well…" He turned away from Peter's curious eyes only to flinch at Scotland's glare. Only when he made the mistake of looking at Arthur's face did Alfred settle for a rare defeat and look down at the ground. "…y-you see…"

A soft knocking at the door saved the American nation at the last moment. Several sets of eyes looked up at the door to see a smiling Finland peeking, who in return gave them a light wave. "Hello, hope I'm not intruding on anything… But news is you have someone I've been looking for."

Gasping, Peter launched himself to his feet. "MAMA!" Rushing forward, he lunged at the Fin's legs and clung with all the might his body would allow him. He was crying again by the time Finland kneeled down to collect him in his arms (Though he'd never admit it, if anything it was a faint hiccup on his part and Finland had actually been the one crying).

Tino smiled sadly, hushed words and murmured comforts escaping his lips as he held the micro-nation close to him. He paused momentarily when his fingers brushed over the wrap of gauze around Peter's head, and the older, English-speaking countries in the room looked away at the shadow that seemed to pass over the Finn's eyes

"It's alright, Peter. I'm here," Tino murmured as he placed a light kiss to the exposed bandage, standing out against the sandy-blonde hair. "You've been so brave, so, so brave. Especially how you kept Kristina safe… It'll be alright, you're safe now, dear…" Violet eyes glanced upwards, barely exposed over Peter's head, as he stared the other nations down with his gaze narrowed and pointed. It was at that moment Alfred was reminded yet again what a potential danger this lithe nation before him could be.

There was no knock to introduce the second Nordic, only his heavy footsteps outside the door. Berwald appeared shortly after Tino did, Alice in his arms looking around with wide eyes. At Uncle Allistor she cheered up instantly, her previous slump from being with less-than-familiar, but never-the-less kind, nations forgotten. But when her eyes fell on Alfred and Arthur, the child began to squirm and whine with arms out and hands grabbing at the air in Arthur's direction with tears threatening to spill all over again.

"Br'ught ya a g'ft," Berwald said as he side-stepped Tino to approach the other nations. The minute she was back with Arthur, it was as if the girl was trying to become one all over again with her mother while her tiny fist kept a vice-like grip on Daddy's shirt.

By the time England looked up to thank the Nordic, he found the Swedish giant crouched beside Tino. Hands once meant for pillaging and tearing English monasteries apart, now fondly brushed loose strands of Peter's hair back behind his ears. There was a small smile on the massive-nation's face when Peter turned with a startled look about him before he grabbed at Berwald crying happily all over again as he held both of his adoptive Nordic parents in his small arms.

Yet by the window, Allistor pushed open the window and fished a cigarette from his pocket. With familiar smoke brewing in his lungs, he leaned out to release it in one fluid breathe. They were celebrating like it was the final victory, and granted for some it was. But the Scottish nation narrowed his eyes as his temper stewed beneath his skin, and he took in another long drag all the while wondering where the hell his nephew still was.

* * *

It was well past dusk when the nations were finally able to gather together in Arthur's hospital room. The nurses had just finished up their final run for the shift, and the building was settling down as patients began to drift off.

As appointed guard, Mathais stuck his head out a final time to get a look around the hall. Finding it acceptably empty, he popped back into the meeting and closed the door with a pop of the lock. He turned, maneuvering his way through the maze of legs and arms to the Nordics grouped by the bathroom door. As he passed Peter, he gave a fond ruffle of the child's hair before settling down next to Lukas with a wide grin on his face and taking a twin into his arms.

Across the room, Germany sighed as the remainder of nations settled down into the family groups. A few neighboring nations had joined the meeting, while others not all too close remained out on the streets.

"Now that we're all here," clearing his throat, Germany glanced over the crowd. They all turned to him, finding it natural from all their UN meetings. "Let us sort this madness out. We've managed to gather a majority of the children. But a good few are still out there." There was a slight shuffle to Germany's right and he had to force his eyes not to glance over to Feliciano standing there. He gave an exhausted sigh shortly after, giving a rare exhibition on the stress tugging at his psyche as a hand ran through his hair sluggishly. "Several of the other nations are still out looking for them… But at this point, it looks like our search continues to bring up dead ends."

"Oh like HELL are you tossing in the towel that easily!" Alfred shot to his feet, eyes ablaze at the nation before him. Several seated around the American nation shied away, afraid of being smacked in the other's flailing, and it took both Arthur and Alistor to pull him back down to the bed. "Of all people... Ludwig…you can't give up… Not now, man…"

Ludwig nodded slowly, glancing away to face the other nations of the room. The Nordics eyed him down, their aggression giving him light confidence. They all stood around Iceland protectively, with Tino and Norway on either side followed by the old Vikings beside them. Yet, even with his arm in a sling, the Icelandic nation had a fire in his eyes and his free hand holding tight to Peter's.

They wouldn't give up, even if a slight victory had been one for them. One family member had yet to come home, and even the wounded Nordics refused to back down.

"…I never said I was giving up, but." Nodding briskly, Germany glanced over to Ivan. The ex-Soviet smiled back at him. "It's time to start actually planning. No more running around this city like mad men. Ivan, are your eyes still in the city?"

"The major exits are continuously under heavy watch." Slowly, Ivan's arms folded across his chest. "None have left that I am aware of. They seem very good at hiding in the city, like little rats, da?" He chuckled softly, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. "Though, I am beginning to wonder something. How _did_ they acquire information about the children, let alone their knowledge about us?"

There was a momentary pause in the room before a mummer began to bubble up amongst the nations. It started calm and quiet, hushed whispers among family members. But soon the voices had escalated to shouts and loud arguments that made Germany cringe at their volumes. Ludwig could hear accusations starting to form among them. Hell, he could practically see the fingers being jabbed in other's directions. However, a light tug on his sleeve drew Ludwig away from the train wreck, and he glanced down to see honey-gold staring back up at him. Feliciano motioned him down with a light wave of his hand, and his German obliged to lend him his ear.

"Ludwig….where's Eduard?"

His stomach fell as he slowly turned to glance back at Ivan and his family. Belarus sat silently on the window sill, watching the crowd with her eyebrow raised as if the conundrum was humorous to her. Ukraine was to her left fiddling absentmindedly with her hair band with Latvia between her and Lithuania.

_Five people all together_, Ludwig thought as his mouth dried out. _The Baltic States were always together whenever Russia called on them_. "Ivan," his cracking voice caught the other's attention over the noise and Russia turned to look at him.

The large nation smiled again, tilting his head lightly to the side. "Da? What's the matter, Germany? You look like you've seen a ghost!" He chuckled at his joke. Somehow, the room didn't find it quite as humorous as the eastern European nation, and quieted down to watch the two.

"Where's," Germany paused to clear his throat. "Where's Estonia?"

It was as if the air was sucked out of the room, quite like when someone opens the door of an airplane mid-flight. Ivan's eyes shot wide open as he turned to count the heads of his surrounding family. When his eyes connected with Belarus' she nodded softly and moved to stand. Already, a low growl was slowly pouring from his lips and Raivis ducked behind Yekaterina's legs to avoid Ivan's pointed look. "For once, I don't know." Turning, Ivan followed his sister to the door, a sinister air about him. "But believe me, I _will_ find out."


	21. Irish Halves

Ireland had been the one to introduce them; after all, he had originally been one of her's.

It happened after a UN Meeting held in London almost half a year ago. He had stayed behind, bitter and seething when his brothers had abandoned him to go off with their friends. His faint light of hope was shattered, leaving him dark inside, when even Tino ran from the meeting hall without so much as a nod in his direction. The silent giant had been right on his heels when the two left to go collect the damn chain keeping Tino locked to Berwald.

Eire had spotted him sitting alone in the back of the meeting room, clicking away at his laptop with a scowl on his face. She had left her brothers' side, Wales and Scotland walking away in the end, with their eyes locked onto his sister the whole time.

She had had the audacity to push his computer close; a smile on her face to combat his glare as her fingers kept the laptop closed.

"Come on," she said, emerald eyes dancing. "I'll buy you a pint, yah look like you could use one."

One pint had turned quickly to several in that smoky English pub yards from their hotel. The heavy taste almost numbed the sting running rampant in his blood, and the company almost made it bearable. A few humans had come and gone, trying their luck at catching the Irish nation's eye and failing each and every time.

And then _he_ arrived.

The Northern counterpart that had been carved from the Irish nation greeted them with a bright smile on her freckled face. He was accepted with a merry cheer from Eire, this strange teen with his charming grin and cat-like eyes.

When Dylan came to collect his older sister, he was left at the mercy of this cat-eyed boy. In the end, he aliened the meeting with fate as the consequence of drunken confessions and rants resulted in those three magic words.

"I can help."

Oh, and help he did. He listened to the nation's grudges and anger-fueled words against his brothers and friends; cursing that damned chain of Tino's to heaven and hell. He always smiled, leaning against the bar with his head propped up lazily against his palm. In the end, it was he who cultivated drunken-slurs and planted their seeds to grow back into something beautifully twisted.

"Sounds like a right problem, friend." He had laughed, as if the world was one big joke. "It's a shame, that friend of yours…Tino was it? Always tied to that horrid man of his. I'm sure he'd rather be free; no kid, no man. Free to come back to the friend that always was there for him."

That's right. If he just could eliminate the lock holding Tino in place, the Finnish nation would run back to the other and they could continue out again like always. It brought a slick smile to his drunken face, and the cat-eyed man laughed again.

"But why stop at just one? There's so many that have wronged you, you poor fool. Who's to say they won't abandon you again?" He had leaned forward, voice dipping to a low whisper as his smile turned sharp and sinister. "They'd turn a blind eye when your master stops playing his game and comes to revoke your independence. They would throw you right back to the lion's den. And how do you prevent that?" He had laughed, knowing well the other hung on his words with his wide-shaking eyes. "You control the beasts through their cubs." And with a light pat on the cheek, the other stood and left the pub smiling merrily.

Control the beasts….through their cubs.

The vine grew in his mind over the few nights. So many other nations, powerful ones, were arriving with these new balls chained to their ankles in the form of crying toddlers on their hips. It was pitiful. And yet, a few months later, he sat again in the back of a UN Meeting looking over his fellow nations trying to attend to business with a slick smirk forming behind the hands steeped before his face.

He could easily get other nations to help him in this quest. So many of his kind had been wronged by these obnoxious power-houses is seemed almost too easy a thing to plot.

After the meeting he approached Eire with a bright grin about him. She would have been perfect, that obnoxious older brother had banged her around far too long in the past, even cut and carved her apart for his own greedy desires. He had put her through hell and back again.

And yet, when he whispered his plan into her ears, she backed away with a gasp. No longer was there a merry light in her eyes, but a streak of horror across her pale features. As her head shook, wild curls flying, a scowl began to form on his face. Was she too blind to see the justice they could do? Cultures had done it since the beginning of time, taking a ruling family's child and keeping them under watch to ensure loyalty.

But she balked at his idea, threatened to reveal him even to Arthur of all people.

Well _that_ just wouldn't do.

Pausing in his thoughts, he glanced across the dark setting, smiling smugly at the nation tied to the steam pipes, a gag in her mouth and gorilla tape reinforcing the rope bonds around her. It wouldn't do at all.

Standing in a fluid motion from his make-shift throne of musty crates, Eduard strolled past the unconscious nation further down the tunnels. He heard their pathetic whimpering before he reached the cage of brats. With a wicked grin, he slammed his hand into the grate-bars, almost laughing at the screams he was responded with.

"Ready for the show?" chuckling, he leaned against the bars. Inside the defiant green eyes stared him down while Arthur's eldest stood in front of his fellow captives. Estonia only smiled back brightly, eyes ticking a bit to the side to watch Karissa shuffle further behind Alistair with a glare on her small face while Maja hidden in her arms. They were all he had left, the idiots he had gathered had failed and his pawns had found their ways back to their parents' arms. And yet, he leaned back laughing. He had his target, his main goal.

"Come now, Maja. Don't you want Tino to be happy again?" He laughed when the small girl whimpered and hid her face into Karissa's chest. "Stupid little girl."

"Don't tease them too much," said the teasingly smooth voice behind him. Turning, Eduard's grin widened at the feline smirk flashing in the dim light. Pushing off the pipes, Cailean dipped his head while chuckling. He approached the bars, hands deep in his pockets as he looked at the children. Leaning forward so that a forearm propped him against the bars, he sent a wink to Alistair. The child glared back, raising his chin as Cailean laughed. "…stupid little brats."


	22. RUN

Tucking his hands beneath his arms, Tino shuddered from the dropping temperature of the city night. He had volunteered to go get some coffee for the more exhausted looking members of their mismatched group, and was suddenly looking forward to the feeling of warm paper cups to bring some life back in his fingers.

As he wandered down the street-lamp lit street, he felt his phone start to buzz. With a groan, he dropped his hands to fetch the plastic device and hold it up to his face with a squint. Tino almost dropped his phone when he saw the name flashing across his caller ID and quickly moved to answer it.

"Are you looking for me?"

Tino glanced around his surroundings. He frowned as he scanned the openings of shadowy alley ways, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Estonian. "…Eduard, where are you?"

"I asked, are you looking for me?"

To his left there was a soft shuffling, and Tino spun around to face the alley. He sighed heavily as he watched a tabby jump out into the light before trotting down the street. "…of course I am, Eduard. You had me worried," a frown weighed heavily across the Finn's face. "Where are you? Ivan said he hasn't seen you since this morning at the Mall…" He heard a soft scoff through the speaker. "You shouldn't have wandered off alone, you had us all scared. Where are you, Eduard? Why didn't you tell anyone you were headed out?"

"Do you think they would have actually looked?"

Tino spun as the one voice became two. He saw Eduard stepping out from an alley a few feet away; a strange grin on the bespectacled man's face when he stopped and stared at Finland. His phone was still pressed to his ear, and his voice echoed around Tino. "Do you think they would have actually cared? They only noticed because the trio had become a duo… Not even the other _Baltic's_ noticed I was gone, how sad is that."

Eduard slowly dropped his phone away, hitting the end button swiftly with his phone before he began stalking towards Tino. The Finn held his ground, eyes wide at the man before him.

"But now that you're here, I suppose it can end," Eduard said with a shrug. He stopped about a foot away from Tino, staring at him with glinting eyes. "That bastard isn't here with you, you came out on your own… I knew you would, Tino. We can go now." Slowly, Estonia held his hand out towards Tino; his lips twitching downwards as the other remained motionless. "It's alright now, you can walk away. I've handled your lock, there's nothing keeping you tethered to him anymore." Stepped forward, Estonia let out a growl as Tino flinched and took one step back. "Why won't you come with me?! You were Baltic before you were Nordic, Tino! You belong with me, not that mute walking wall of meat! He took you away, damn it! I've been the one with you, always with you! We shared our time of torment while all he did was throw you away! He didn't even lift a _finger_ when Ivan had you under his boot heel, not _once_! All this work I've done, for _you_! You!"

"I don't remember asking you to!" His shout caused the other nation to freeze. Narrowing his eyes, Tino reversed the rolls; stepping towards Eduard and watching him retreat back. "Just give them back, and we can work something out… I could help you, Eduard, but you have to give them back… It's not too late."

A flash of hesitance streaked across Estonia's eyes before he sneered and stepped further away from Tino. "I don't _need_ your pity…just your sentencing." He turned and slipped back into the shadows before Tino could reply, and when the Finnish nation rushed after him, all he found was an empty alleyway of garbage and steam-breathing man-holes.

Tino spared a moment to curse and slam a fist against one of the buildings. Then, nursing the bruised knuckles between his lips, he fished his phone out and dialed an all too familiar number. When answered with the usual one-syllable reply, he simply said, "I think I know where he is," and eyed down the metal-circle nestled in the ground.

* * *

"….and you're sure he went down this way?"

Tino glanced back to see Denmark giving a weary look at the man-hole cover. Behind him, Berwald gave a light roll of his eyes and strode past the fellow Nordic.

"If ya'r sc'red, ya can go b'ck to tha h'spit'l, 'thais…" That comment caused the Danish nation to puff out about three sizes bigger and he shot off after Berwald with a scowl and determined grumbles.

Tino shook his head, stepping aside to let the men go about removing the cover. He spared the remaining group a quick glance, counting their numbers. At the entrance of the dark ally, Ivan stood watch, silent and nerve-wrecking. Alfred stood close to the front, already loading and checking his handgun before securely tucking it in the back of his pants. Allistor rolled his eyes at his brother-in-law's actions, leaning against the alleyway wall with a cigarette hanging loosely from his teeth. Francis and Spain stood close to him, going over a map silently with downcast faces. Romano stood close to his husband, occasionally casting worried glances over to his brother at Germany's side. Tino frowned slightly when his eyes glazed over the pair. Ludwig was looking down to Feliciano, talking in a low whisper that made it impossible for others to catch. His Italian simply stared ahead, his face blank with eyes opened and pointed to the man-hole cover. It was always a dangerous affair when the Italians were silent.

A loud pop caused Tino to snap his head back to find Berwald standing up and Mathais kicking the man-cover away with the toes of his boot; the metal lid rolling away before eventually falling in a wobbling circle. The Dane looked back to them, his largest shit-eating grin ever plastered on his face and hands on his hips. "After you, ladies."

In the end, only a few nations took entryway in that specific tunnel. Scotland, France, Spain, and Romano remained on the surface, planning to find another entrance hopefully at the opposite end to flush out the rat. Ludwig took lead, Feliciano right on his heels with Alfred shortly behind.

Scoffing, Denmark raised an arm to cover his mouth. "Sick bastard, hiding down here. What the hell we gonna do with him afterwards?"

A heavy silence fell over them at the statement. They had all been thinking it, but no one dared to mention it. Finland looked downwards, a frown hanging on his face.

"….we'll…see when we get there," Ludwig muttered from the front of the line. Eventually, the group stumbled into an opening of the pipes. A structure in the strange shape of a three-lined Y, all tunnels shadowed in black.

"…" Sighing, Sweden nodded towards Mathais and took Tino by the hand. "G't tha l'ft."

Germany nodded as the Nordic countries walked down the left-stretching tunnel, their flashlight stretching out before them in a deformed cone. He glanced back down to Italy, only to find the smaller nation staring back up at him.

"Guess that means I'll take the right, da?" Smiling, Ivan gave a small nod towards his fellow nations and turned off down the opposite tunnel. Ludwig shuddered softly when he could hear the Russian nation begin whistling in the dark.

Alfred stepped forward next, slowly pulling his gun out and flicking the attached light on. "That leaves us dead down the middle, right?" Raising his weapon, the American nation began to slowly advance while constantly sweeping his aim side to side. He paused a moment, glancing back at the two nations when he was almost two yards in. "Are you two coming?"

Feliciano's eyes shot wide open as a pair of shining eyes appeared behind America. He reached out, gripping to Germany's sleeve as a slender, cheshire cat grin appeared on the shadowed creature. "Alf-!" There was barely anytime to call out to the American nation before slender hands shot out to capture the man around the throat and drag him into the dark. "Alfred!"

Shouts from the left almost gave Italy whiplash as he turned to look where the Nordics had disappeared. Beside him, Ludwig began to bristle up at the taunting voice singing out to them.

"Ah ah, wrong way to scurry little beetles. Look at how you all panic when the light goes out. Pick the one now, pick the one~ I would hate for our game to end so soon! "

Feliciano shrank against his husband's arms, widely looking about him at the tunnels. "It's just like one of America's video games, Germany," he whispered. Glancing back up, he found his German scowling despite the sweat littering on his brow. "What way do we go? Those horror games were the worst."

Scoffing, Germany narrowed his eyes and began to lead Italy off down the center pipe. "Its nothing, Feliciano. You forget, horror stories were born in my country."

Feliciano held fast to the other's arm as they continued their trip through the dark. All around he could hear that teasing laugh ringing in his ears; feel the brush of fingers on his skin, trailing over his neck and arms. Closing his eyes made the dark only a bit more bearable, and he forced his feet to carry on through the cave-like darkness.

"I feel like we've done this before, ve..." Feliciano whispered, trusting Germany to guide them down the dark. His shoulders flinched at another peal of laughter from their invisible assailant.

Nodding slightly, Ludwig stared into the blackness. "Ja, during the war." He sighed softly, ignoring the fingers that brushed over his neck, tempting him to panic and flip on his flashlight.

Beside him, Italy laughed weakly. "You were wounded by one of Alfred's men. I was so scared and I didn't know what to do, so I ended up dragging you into the nearest place I could find."

"Mm, and was a place that was. So dark I could barely see the end of my nose," Germany let a ghost of a smile cross his face. "It was only a shot to the arm, but you were acting like it was the end of the world… You were usually so scared of the dark, always trying to get into my tent saying you were so scared you couldn't sleep."

"I was! …but…"

Germany chuckled softly and interweaved his fingers with Italy's when they slowly released his arm. "I'll never understand you Italians." As they turned a corner, he squinted at the circle brightening the end before them. "Gott sei dank*, almost there..."

Feliciano winced as they grew closer to the lighted area, raising a hand to cover his eyes. When they stumbled from the tunnel, he quickly looked about before glancing back over his shoulder. He practically jumped out of his skin when he found the venom green eyes staring back at him from the dark. Ludwig turned to glare at them, and slowly they faded back into the black with a laugh.

"Time to choose who to save the most! Chose Germania*, chose! You can't save them all; you might have to start looking for replacements! Ask your little _Feli_, he knows ALL about that, don't you Italien*? Poor little holy child lying six feet in the ground..."

"Sh-Shut up!"

As his companion's voice echoed out, Germany turned to Italy with wide eyes. Beside him, Feliciano shook, staring at the ground with wide eyes as his typical Mediterranean skin faded. "Come on," he whispered, tugging on his Italian's hand as they began to walk towards a large grated door along the side of the gateway. It pushed open beneath Ludwig's fingers, and the German raised a hand to his nose as the pair walked into a heavily musk scented room. "Guter got*," he grumbled, glancing about.

It was a small entrance, filled with pipes and moldy rugs. As they walked further into the concrete walled room, the metal door slammed shut behind them, accompanied by another laugh.

"Bastard," Germany snarled out between his teeth. There were faulty lights hanging above them, swinging from the vibration of cars driving above. Ludwig looked down as he felt Italy's hand slipping from his, and he found the nation looking forward with horror on his face.

"…I know her," he whispered before rushing off.

Ludwig was quick to follow him, turning a corner after his Italian to see him kneel next to the red-headed woman zip-tied to a steam pipe. She groaned at Feliciano's touch, and he quickly turned to look back at Germany. "Germany, we can't leave her down here! This is bad!" The Italian glanced back with a whimper and carefully pulled the duct-tape from her lips.

Eire slowly cracked open her eyes. Dazed, she stared for a moment at the floor with her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to gain feeling back in her bruised jaw in her haze. She slowly looked up, squinting at the two fellow nations before her.

"…..wa…"

Frowning, Italy leaned slightly to the side to take up more of her sight. "Wa? ….what?"

Swallowing, she hoarsely whispered, "Watch," before frowning and watching Germany straighten up with a growl bubbling up behind his teeth. Feliciano whipped to the side to glance in confusion at the nation, only to get those dangerous blue eyes locked on his and a silent message sent.

_Run_.

…..run?

His eyes trailed to the side, catching a glint of the glasses behind Ludwig as the man stepped from the shadows; his hand poised to hold the gun to the back of Germany's head.

Oh….._run_.

The two's eyes connected for a moment before Italy gave the smallest nod. In a flash, Ludwig spun on the assailant, distracting the other long enough for Feliciano to shoot off into the darker parts of the room. The Italian flinched and jogged to a halt at the deafening sound of a gunshot ringing out, but sudden green eyes behind him caused the nation to shout and take off running once again. His feet took him from the room and down a side tunnel where after several minutes he had to lean against one of the walls with a hand on his chest panting and gasping for air.

Then the hand fell on his shoulder and his heart came two beats short of stopping.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_- Its a random awesome fact that Germany is literally the birth place of MAJOR gothic/horror literature. Go look up "Lenore" by Gottfried Burger and the origin of those slendermen legends everyone was freaking out about. GERMAN!_

_Translations_

_Germany:_

_- "Thank God"_

_- "Good God"_

_N!Ireland:_

_- "Germany" in Italian_

_- "Italy" in German_


	23. Family will fix family

Groaning, Eduard dropped the pair of arms with a heavy thud on the concrete. He stepped back, hands pushing on his lower back to pop it back into place. He shot Cailean a glare as the Irishman laughed. "Are you going to help me or not?"

The red head leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. "But it's so much more enjoyable watching you work." He pushed off the wall, walking over to the Estonian. "And you look like you're so much fun." Quickly jumping over Ludwig's arms, Cailean quietly laughed at the knocked out nation on the floor. He glanced deeper into the make-shift cell, smiling warmly at the other nations slouched and tethered to the pipes. "Looks like the lion den's almost full."

He quickly sneered at a sound coming from the second cell. Whipping his head to the side, he glared in the direction of the children. Karissa had run to the bars, clinging to them as she looked over her father's downed body with shaking eyes.

"Little brat," Cailean snarled. Walking over, he gave a kick to the bars causing Karissa to stumble back and land on her butt with a yelp. "Sit back and shut up." He narrowed his eyes as Alistair grabbed Karissa's hand to tug the child back to him and Maja. Cailean rolled his eyes at the soft whimper from the girl directed towards her downed father. "Get the bastard in there already. He's bleeding all over the damned place."

Eduard shot the other a glare as Cailean walked off, head held high. Collecting Germany's wrists again, the Estonian let out an annoyed noise as he began to drag the man back into the cell. He eventually managed to ditch the bleeding nation among the others, wrists above his head and zip tied to the groaning pipe. Stepping back, his eyes caught the glint of blood on his hands and he froze, looking down to them.

"…I didn't…" He muttered, looking over his shoulder, he caught Karissa's eyes staring him down. The girl hiccupped slightly, rubbing at her eyes before standing to walk to the bars again. She stood there, watching him with watery blue eyes. Turning away, he looked over Tino's face, the man's chin slumped against his chest as it weakly rose and fell. "I never wanted…" Yet as his gaze drifted, he froze up.

A pair of dangerous half-open sapphire eyes glared back at him, beneath streams of drying blood stemming from where the pipe had connected with his skull. Eduard shot up, stumbling backwards out of the cell. The Viking before him weakly raised his chin to follow the Estonian's movement. With a snarl, he turned and stormed away from the cells with hands clenched by his sides.

"It's your fault. It's all your fault."

* * *

"Get off me," grumbling, Romano nudged Antonio in the ribs as the other and Scotland leaned over him to look down the hall. Behind them, France stood with his hand on Feliciano's arm trying to calm the flightily nation. Sighing, Lovino wiggled out from beneath the taller nations and wandered back to his brother. He caught his brother's eyes and placed his hands down on the other's shoulders. "Feli, don't worry. We'll get that damn potato bastard out." He struggled to scowl and turned away when Feliciano looked up to him. "….stupid German getting caught like that."

"But Lovi," he weakly tugged on his brother's sleeve. "It wasn't just Ludwig…Miss Ireland is in there too… "

Chuckling, Spain stepped back to smile at the Italian brothers. "That skinny little computer geek won't know what hit him." Allistor nodded in agreement, giving the area one final look over his shoulder with a scowl.

Frowning, Italy watched France move to join the others. Romano still by his side, he called out to them quickly; "Just keep your flash lights off!"

"…I wonder what he means by that," Francis mused. Shuddering softly, he quickly checked that his gun was unlocked and loaded while stalking through the shadows with his companions.

Allistor arrived at the wall first, moving to press his back up against the wall. He gave a sharp not to the others across the door. "On three," he said, jutting his chin towards the gaping black square between them.

"Uno…"

"Deux…"

"Three!"

In a single, fluid motion, the trio rushed into the side room. They quickly scanned the room at gun point. Francis scowled at the dark empty silent space while slowly lowering his gun. "…there's nothing here." He turned, watching Scotland creep further into the room where curtains and moldy rugs hung along the walls.

With his knuckles, the Scottish nation brushed aside the damp material, allowing a weak flicker of a faulty bulb to dance across the nations' faces. Soon Allistor disappeared behind the curtains, leaving his fellow nations to hurry after him.

When they bypassed the musty smelling cloth, Antonio and Francis found Scotland working on breaking the ties around his sister's wrists, carefully catching her slumping form with one arm as he tucked the army knife back into his pocket. "Mon dieu." Francis breathed, carefully taking Eire from Allistor to support her against his chest. He exchanged glances with Scotland before the red-head snapped his attention to Spain.

"Cover him till he can get back to the Italians and get Eire outta here," he snarled. "Francis come back here as _soon_ as she's with them."

As Spain rushed to cover point for the Frenchman, Scotland stood to glare further back into the room. "Show yerself you bloody coward." Holding his gun high, he crept forward at noises further into the dark. However, as he turned to face where he assumed the rat of a nation hide, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Uncle!"

The sight of his nephew brought the nation to his knees. He reached through the bars, grasping Alistair's hand when the boy raced towards him. Chuckling weakly, Scotland gently rest his forehead against the bars, the boy on the other side mimicking him. "Oh thank the Lord, there you are…" He pulled away with a small smile. Looking back, he did a quick glance over of the two girls staring back at him with hopeful wide eyes. "There you all are."

Karissa walked towards them next, Maja clinging to the Italian's hand. "M-Mr. Kirkland, sir?" Green eyes drifted towards her as Scotland moved to break the bonds holding their cell together. "…You'll help papa, right?" Allistor paused, turning to look where the girl pointed over his shoulder.

In the separate make-shift cell, lined up like bleeding dolls, the other nations sat with arms raised high. Only Sweden sat with open eyes, watching Allistor silently with eyes squinted so much they looked like slivers of ice in the weak light; the nation's glasses probably lost in the sewers.

Antonio jogged back to Scotland seconds later with a small smile. "I saw him to where they were hiding, he'll be back so…" his voice trailed off when he looked down at the children staring at him. "…There you are bambino! You had your madre worried!" Crouching down beside him, Antonio motioned for Scotland to tackle the other nations with a flick of his eyes before tackling the remaining ties himself. "Won't he be happy to see you again?!"

Knife in hand, Allistor moved to snap down his fellow nations' wrists, cringing slightly at the red marks bruising their arms. As he reached Sweden, the larger nation caught his eyes.

"Wh's h're," the Nordic muttered.

A quick look up and down the line brought the response, "Mathais and Tino, Alfred, and Ludwig."

Nodding slightly, Berwald paused to rub at his wrists. He looked at the ground, glaring more than usual as if doing calculations before he turned to his right. A large hand gently shook consciousness into Finland, who after his initial groggy moan, gasped and made to leap at Scotland with a snarl.

"Whoa! Easy there, ya fisty little bastard." Allistor had to take a step back, laughing when Tino quickly realized who he had attempted to strangle and rushed to apologize. Taking a final glance down the line, he turned back to them with a weak smile. "Think you can rouse everyone else? I'll go help Antonio with the kids."

"Kids?!" Tino shot up to his feet, swaying dangerously before he managed to get a hand on the wall. "Where?! Who!"

Scotland took a step back, pointing with his thumb to where Antonio knelt hugging Karissa to him. "Back there with Spain. Maja's alright, she's with Karissa and Ali…" He gasped and quickly dodged out of the way as the Finnish nation shoved past him to scoop up Maja and hold her close to his chest.

Sighing, Allistor left Sweden to rouse Denmark and America while he turned to Germany. He knelt, slipping a hand behind the nation's shoulder and pulled it back with a look of disgust at the coating of blood it received. "Can't say we all got out easy," muttering, he weakly began to tap Ludwig's face with the back of his knuckles. "Come on, get up ya git… Yer spookin yer girl…" He smiled when the large nation before him groaned and turned his head away. "Get up or I'll go grab Romano and let him at ya."

As Germany slowly opened his eyes, Allistor stepped back with a cheeky grin plastered over his face. "Bout time." Looking back, the red-headed nation caught sight of Karissa wiggling free of her uncle's arms and rushing towards Ludwig. He turned away as she tackled the German, walking back to Spain before scooping his nephew up and onto his hip.

"We should bring them home before someone comes back," Antonio said, standing while dusting off his hands. "Who knows when Estonia will return, we should be careful especially with the bambinos."

Children collected and nations freed, the group began to walk from the dark room and out to the sewers when a shadow appeared to block the doorway. "Don't fucking move!" Eduard shouted his eyes wide while his arms shook. He changed between targets, finger twitching over the trigger. "I should've just shot you fucking little brats when got my hands on you! I don't know what he was thinking, t-trying to control you bastards through those sniveling wastes of space!" He quickly swung his gun on Spain, the tanned nation faltering with a scowl as he slowly began to lower his gun. "I-I know! I'll just shoot you now! Save us ALL the problems! ALL GONE! ALL GO-"

Suddenly the Estonian froze. His fingers shook open and the gun fell with a clatter to the concrete soon followed by its owner. A smiling Russian stood in his place now, grinning despite the blood that littered his head and hair.

"I'm not too late to the party, am I? Silly little любимец*. It's ok, family will fix family, da?"

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_Oh. My. God. This arch...is finally... OVER! Now I can go back to my random one shots of the kids! Yay! ...That got SO out of hand, I'm so sorry everyone! Gomensai, gomensai! *bows to you* Till next time!_

_Translations_

_Russia:_

_- "pet" like the endearing term_


	24. The War was in Color

Sighing softly, Ludwig sat down with a roll of his shoulders. He scowled at the dull pain vibrating into his bones, casting the offending shoulder a dark glance. Beneath the cloth of his t-shirt, the bulge of bandages could be seen, covering where that fool had shot him a week ago. "Damn it…"

Slowly his eyes closed and the large nation leaned his head back with pin-straight, clenched lips. Thinking back on it, he couldn't help but feel some pride swell in the hurricane of emotions and thoughts that night when he saw the Italian's eyes blaze in fight rather than flight the moment he saw Karissa holding bloody hands out to him, crying "madre". Even after the cautious explanation that it was his and not her blood, Ludwig had to keep a careful eye on the shorter nation when they exited; Feliciano's eyes glued onto Eduard draped over Russia's back like a play thing. There wasn't a doubt in Ludwig's head that his Italian was just waiting for the Estonian to twitch so he could have an excuse to cause his own brand of physical harm.

Ludwig's scowl deepened when he thought about the other involved in the scandal. Eire claimed adamantly that it had been Cailean that had been the grinning chestier cat in the background, Arthur backing up the Irish nation despite Scotland's complaints that it couldn't have been the lithe red-head of the family. But when Alistair spoke up, naming his uncle among the two nations, the northern United Kingdom's nation had to leave the room; Ludwig was positive he heard _something _crashing in the hall, but had been too preoccupied with the meeting to go and investigate the cause.

"Papa?"

Cracking open an eye, Ludwig glanced down to see Karissa staring up at him. Her eyes wide, the little girl stood with an old tattered hat falling down her head, causing her to tilt her head back just to see under the bill. Ludwig froze, looking at the little brunette staring at him with her small O of a mouth starting to smile at the corners.

Throwing her arms out wide, she let out a giggle. "I found it in the attic! Madre was looking for paint so I was helping and I found this!" Her hands clamped down on the top of the hat, Germany cringing at her growing smile. "It's really dusty!"

"Liebe…that's…" Frowning, Ludwig motioned for the girl to climb up into his lap. Karissa picked up on her father's dropping mood and clambered up sitting sideways across his legs while peering back up at him under the bill. "That's very old." Carefully, Ludwig took the hat from her head and smoothed out fly away hair strands while putting the hat down beside his chair. "A very old man wore that once in a war. Little liebes like yourself shouldn't run around in such a hat. Sun hats like your mother wears…those are much better."

Karissa tilt her head to the side, blinking owlishly at her father. "….in a war?" She watched him slowly nod, tired. Leaning to the side, she looked at the hat again and then back up to Ludwig. "…what's war?"

He couldn't help but crack a small, exhausted smile. "Something that you'll hopefully never have to go through." A large hand ruffled her hair, and the child giggled under it. "It's a very complicated thing that not even many adults understand."

"…is it like those old movies Mr. Alfred watches?" She held his wrist with both hands, peeking up at him from under his arm. "Those long black and white movies with soldiers and tanks and the crazy plane with their wings all BANG BANG BANG and smoking that always has him jumping about shouting at the tv and Mr. Kirkland yelling at him to plop his butt down or so help him? Because those are actually really cool movies and –" Karissa began to laugh again when Ludwig gently covered her face with his palm, instantly trying to get his weak hold off her with peals of laughter.

"No, Liebe… Wars aren't like that." Germany smiled warmly at her when she got his hand from her face and instead held it tightly between both of hers. "War isn't….well… It isn't something that is black and white." Leaning forward, he gently kissed her hair line. She instantly moved to hug his neck at the action. "It's something full of color…"

"Like one of Madre's paintings?" she asked, muffed by her face resting against Germany's collarbone.

He shook his head slightly. "The opposite. Your mother makes beautiful things, war does nothing like that. Alfred's movies don't show a lot of things." Germany's eyes drifted back to the hat resting beside them, and he scowled at it. "They don't show the flash of a gun, or soldiers that are done… Trust me, Karissa. The war was in color, frightening over-powering color."

Karissa blinked, leaning back to look up at Ludwig in surprise to hear him use that word. He smiled at her, unaware of the shock he had put her in by simply expressing the possibility that something frightened her father. Slowly, she cuddled back up against him, looking off at a wall thinking it over to the best extend a child could. Her fingers tightened on her father's shirt, causing him to look down at her in confusion.

"…is it good for anything?" came the quietly asked question, followed by worried eyes looking up to him.

"…" Slouching, he against pressed his lips gently against her head. There he stayed, Karissa still in his arms. "Well, hopefully for you, it made a world without war and a life full of color just like your mother's art." He smiled when he felt her stir and pull back from him, moving to look her in the eyes. Karissa paused a moment, smiling brightly at him.

Then the moment blew away, caught by the wind and approaching footsteps that caused both to turn their head to the doorway. Karissa threw her hands in the air the moment Italy came into sight, scurrying to leave Ludwig's lap and run over to him. "Ready to go paint bam-!" The Italian stopped short, in turn causing Karissa to stop running and almost slide onto her butt when her socks skid on the hardwood floor and Ludwig straighten in his chair. Germany's eyes followed the other's gaze and he mentally groaned when the trail lead straight to the hat.

There was a heavy silence as Italy stood there, staring the historical item down. He shuffled, quickly adverting his eyes up to Ludwig a moment after, then dropped his gaze to Karissa. A smile struggled to his lips at their daughter, her head tilted to the side in confusion as she looked her mother over.

"….did you bring out that dusty old thing, bambino?" Voice hushed as if he was forcing it steady, Italy kneeled down to rest the painting supplies down beside him on the floor. Karissa hurried into his waiting arms, her head bobbing up and down in a nod. "Why on earth would you want to play with such a dusty thing?"

"…it reminded me of Papa," she said, muffled against her mother. She missed the flinch across both of her parents' shoulders. Leaning back, Karissa smiled up at Feliciano, a small hand moving to pat his cheek. "But it's ok! Papa said that the hat is nothing like Mr. Alfred's movies and is actually really colorful but really bad colorful, but because of the bad colors, they're not coming back again and now the world is going to be more colorful but in a good way like your paintings!" She took a deep breath after her ramble, looking up at Italy with a toothy grin. "Papa said the world is going to be colorful for me now! Can I go paint it, Madre, please?"

Taken back, Feliciano looked at his daughter then up to Ludwig. He found the other looking on in just as much shock, and slowly the image of an all black dark angel once burned in the Italian's mind frayed and faded to the German before him today. The trench coat and military hat melted off of Ludwig's shoulders, a burning red arm band seemed to pop out of existence, and the cruel, stern look of ages past vanished from his eyes.

Feeling eyes on him, Ludwig looked up to catch Feliciano's eyes. The Italian smiled at him, a warm beautiful thing before his honey-brown eyes dipped back down to Karissa's waiting smile. "Of course we can go paint it, bambino. It's always better to paint your beautiful world than go about destroying it with guns."

He kissed her forehead, standing up while collecting his supplies. The child rushed to grab a canvass much larger than her, struggling to carry it out the doorway. The two adult's eyes caught each other's for a brief moment, and Italy's smile was blinding.

Watching his two Italians leave, Germany chuckled lightly and leaned back into his chair. Looking up at the ceiling, he sought the hat out with his finger tips. He grabbed it, raising it above his head to look at indifferently. Then, with a chuckle, he tossed it to the side, settling comfortably back into his chair as the old Nazi regime had slid under a couch.

"Just ugly old colors," he whispered, struggling to hide a yawn.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_So I was thinking what to write next and cruising youtube at the same time when I came across this one video posted by Centaurgurl08 and made by nekokitkat252hug. Needless to say, I fell in love with the song that was used, "The War was in Color" by Carbon Leaf. Talk about a powerful song, you should go listen to it. _

_I don't own Hetalia, "The War was in Color" by Carbon Leaf, or the quotes from the song included in the chapter._


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